Countin' on a Miracle
by ros68
Summary: ATF Universe. An old enemy seek revenge against Chris and strange accidents started to happen. With Nathan out of commission, J.D. lightly injured and Buck and Chris pretty worried, what will happened on a blust when a flash of light is seen and Chris is on the line of the sniper? Vin will do anything to protect his friend, but at what cost?
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

This story was originally posted in May 2004 on my 'The Magnificent Seven Rides Again' website (now closed) and it is still archived on 'Blackraptor' Website. I was writed this story with my friend Chris. You will find the story with all the graphics here: .

The idea I had in mind when we started to write this story wasn't exactly what is come out at the end of it, Chris put in it a lot of her ideas and the storyline changes a lot but I'd like to share the story anyway, also if it isn't exactly what I meant :)

**Disclaimer:** This story is the product of different minds coming together to have some fun. We have ownership over some new characters but the rest belongs to CBS, MGM etc. (sniff!). It is in no way intended to infringe on the copyrights of CBS, MGM, The Trilogy entertainment group, The Mirisch Corporation or anyone else may have legal rights to the characters, setting or song references. Also the ATF/ AU universe was created by MOG, we are grateful to her for making such a wonderful universe for the "boys" and we hope she doesn't mind we have played in it.

The rights of the song "Calling all angels" are to Train, Brendan O'Brien and Sony music entertainment group.  
**  
Thanks: **A hug the size of her own gentle heart to Nancy that allowed us to use her wonderful background and the ATF badge for our story, and thanks a lot to the skillful girl who created the ATF badge. Thanks for their patience and support to Laurie, Diane, Jean and the Roses of Texas. Our grateful thanks to the members of the lists in which the tale was posted for reading it and for the help they have given with their wise comments. Special thanks to Sandy that when the wheels came off in a big halfway through, pulled the whip out and made me finish the story. And in the end a kiss. to my "very" personal beta.

**Note:** All medical and police procedure has no basis in fact, extracted only from TV.

**Main Characters: **This is manly a VIN / CHRIS story with a bit of Ezra... and only a "glimpse" of the others.

Universe:

ATF

Acknowledgements:

The ATF / AU Universe belongs to MOG. Thanks, Mog!

Feedback:

This is Chris first attempt of an M7 ATF story and the first one at all for Rosy (rosy68). We can commit mistakes, yet, so please be nice, thanks.

* * *

**Countin' on a Miracle - Chapter 1**

**by Chris and rosyvin**

**AUGUST 11 - Morning 8.00 a. m. – Office**

It was the second week of August and the temperature had already settled above the nineties. On Friday morning, in the empty and silent office, the air conditioner cranked up on high, the two younger members of the legendary Team 7 were enjoying a little "breakfast"

They had spent the whole night there, checking on lot of files and pinning photographs on the corkboard in the conference room, each one identified with a felt–tip pen. Each picture was cross–referred to the other so that the warehouse in which a big smuggling of weapons ,had to be, could be visualized, according to Chris' instructions, at a glance.

Buck stepped into the office with a slight nod to his team's mates.

Tanner greeted him, "Howdy Bucklin, 'bout time ya showed up! Have a cup of coffee, it's already been saucered and blowed!"

"Did you make it?"

"Yeah," Vin, answered biting with delight into his huge "burrito".

"Damn! Reckon you have in mind to poison all the team with that lethal brew you claim is coffee, Slick."

"Never forced y' all on drinkin' it, Bucklin. Wanna eat somethin'? …So much th' better!" The Texan offered landing his friend a full tray covered with his favourite junk food he had on his lap.

"I'll die eat that stuff! I wonder how you two could "ingest" that kind of greasy grub so early in the morning! And look at the mess you did all over the office!" Wilmington blurted out, looking in dismay at the once immaculate room now littered with half–empty coffee cups, coke cans, wadded paper and empty pizza boxes.

"Can't help yer gettin' on in years, Bucklin, 'sides the kid and I had ta stay inta the darn office all the darn night while you were holed up in the warm bed of yers, and Larabee is in a foul mood this mornin' so quit yer yammerin' and let us have our darn breakfast, the sharpshooter drawled, rolling his eyes and nodding knowingly at the closed door at Wilmington's back.

"He came at 6 A.M, he didn't offer a "hello" or a "Good morning," and I can tell he's pissed off." J.D swiftly reported.

"How come?" Buck asked raising his eyebrows.

"Th'hell who knows!" Vin said, tossing his head.

"I'll talk to him," Buck stated, heading for Chris' office closed door.

"Watch yer back, pard, Larabee has a mite low boilin' point, ya feel me," Tanner teased.

Turning around to face the Texan, Buck said with a smirk, "Care if I try?" then knocked slightly on the door.

"Chris? " he called out warily.

From the inside came a growling reply, "Come in!"

The man in black raised his head from his desktop as Buck cautiously entered the room. The scoundrel scooped his friend: he was pale and had matching sets of bags under watery eyes.

"I guess you didn't sleep well, Chris."

"I didn't sleep at all!" The team's leader snorted.

"What's bothering you?"

Chris sighed. handing him a slip of paper, "It came by e–mail, read it!"

Buck looked it over quizzically, puzzled, then looked back at the words written on the front of the page and, clearing his throat, hesitantly began to read slowly.

_Eight little ATF boys_

_One had a car crash,_

_And then they were seven_

_Seven little ATF boys_

_Gathering up sticks._

_One chopped his leg_

_And then they were six._

_Only six left… be careful LARABEE!_

"What the hell …" he muttered.

"Go on and get a look at the signature," Chris said, looking up at his old friend with an expression of impatience frozen on his face.

Again Buck staring steadily at the paper read the name written under the poem, then shuddering he exclaimed,

"Murdock! The bastard 's still around."

"Yesterday night judge Travis had a car accident on the way to Denver, and just afterwards I had a call from Rain. She said Nathan had cut his left leg chopping some wood, not far from her house up in the mountains. She found him and was able to stop the bleeding, but she told me something's wrong for he had a very large bump on his forehead too," Chris stiffly reported.

"How are they doin'?"

"I dunno, Buck. I've sent Josiah to the hospital a couple of hours ago and still I haven't heard from him. But I won't tell anything about these "accidents" to the boys…" Buck nodded in agreement. Chris was right the kid and Junior had to be spared.

"It's a warning, Murdock wants all of us out of his business. All this is strictly connected with the big smuggling ring we discovered. I asked Ezra to get some information about the man. And he's still checking his files over maybe he'll turn up something new," Chris uttered, lowering his gaze on the desk.

He was pretty aware that he was "mothering" the younger man, but he couldn't help himself.

That scruffy, stubborn Texan has got under his skin. Vin Tanner was now so important to him as Sarah and Adam had been in the past and the simple thought he might lose him too, was haunting his very soul. Then there was Murdock. The man was just downright wicked. Wicked so as to frighten most people. He was nothing less than a murderer at heart. Moreover, he was wondering how he could protect Vin and all his team from such an old dodging devil. The message and the phone call had both intrigued and upset Chris and he had spent most part of the previous night turning and tossing, sleeping poorly, with the bedside clock shining a dull green light onto his face and his closed eyelids.

Wilmington broke the unpleasant silence by clearing his throat. Both of them for long minutes looked at each other as if some secret signal was passing between them. By the strained look on Wilmington 's face, Larabee realized that he didn't want to talk, which situated him. He rose to his feet and went past his old friend gripping the top of Wilmington 's thick shoulder.

"You look a bit spaced out."

Buck shrugged himself free." *I* was *fine*."

"I'm sorry," Chris's voice cracked and his mouth drew tight, betraying the strain he felt.

"I hate to interrupt, gentlemen," Ezra apologized, entering the office and handing some photographs out to Chris. "These photos were taken a week ago in Denver's airport."

Chris studied the subject in a picture: a middle aged, thick man, in an expensive gray suit, a panama obscuring his coarse features, at his left side were two huge guys in dark, anonymous suites.

"Recognize those people?" Ezra asked pointing at the pictures.

"That's Murdock" Chris growled, "The others cutthroats to the man."

"Well, what do you think, Mr. Larabee?" Ezra urged as Chris studied the photos in his hands.

"My guess is," Chris snarled not quite answering Standish, "to have a look at whoever did this dance. I don't have to give you the lecture... All Murdock wants is to make a clean sweep of all our team, he is here to carry out a personal vendetta and he is devious and psychotic enough to do the work! I know him better than anyone alive! So we must pull out the stop on all this and bring him and his whole bunch down!."

"Mr. Larabee, I don't want to sound like I know it all but my humble advice should be to be careful much more careful," Ezra hesitantly suggested.

The well–know Larabee 's glare in all his deadly sharpness whitened the Southerner. "What do you want to do, Ezra, send flowers?" he snapped staring hard at the undercover agent, silencing him.

Then, holding his temper in check, but just barely Chris went on, "Let's go, we have a meeting, being less than one man I asked for help and captain Forbes from Team 6 agreed to borrow me four men and a driver."

He turned and crossing with his usual long strides the office gestured his men into the conference' room where the agents from Team 3 were already waiting for them.

He positioned himself in the middle of the room and looking steadily at his audience, he gave a capsule summary of the situation.

"Well, I shall be brief and to the point, boys, we have been informed of a real big arms smuggling ring. From unofficial further investigation, we were able to find out the man in charge of this. Name's Murdock, Jack Murdock and he 's described as a "tycoon" and a cool blooded murderer. He's here in Denver and he's going to make the first delivery on this same afternoon, in a warehouse not far from the airport. We are going to catch the bastard red handed. Ezra made the due arrangement to meet the man, introducing me as a "purchaser". The meeting is to be at 3.00 p.m. On the pictures on the walls, you can see the setting of the whole place and the positions you had to take in it. Tanner will cover our backs from the scaffolding in the middle of the building. The others will be scattered all around, two men at every door in the front and in the back, three agents in the truck outside to prevent the flight of our target. Any answer?"

The men studied carefully the photographs and discussed for a while but there was very little to say: this was a routine job.

Chris looked at his watch, it was only 11.00 A.M. "You are dismissed! I want to give to you all time for lunch." He said, ending up the meeting.

"That's jist fine, I'm starved'," Vin drawled.

"Damn, Tanner, your system need a break, you are eating me out of house and home!" Buck groaned.

"Got ta keep my strength ta watch yer sorry butt, Bucklin…" Vin shot back, then turning to J.D. he asked,

"What about a little brunch at Inez's, kid?" And putting his cap back and upwards on his always unruly locks, he rose to his feet and ambled to the door.

"That sounds great!" J.D cried out, as he eagerly followed his lanky team-mate on the way to the elevator.

The older men returned to Chris' office.

Larabee lit a cigarette and took a long pull, staring at his old friend.

Nobody said anything for a minute or two.

"You want that bastard, Chris."

"Yea, I want him, pard."

"Then you'll have him. You got a right!"

"Thanks, Buck." Chris said.

"See ya," smiled back Wilmington then whirled on his heel and exited the room.

* * *

**AUGUST, 11 - Afternoon – Somewhere not far from Denver International airport.**

They met at two 'o clock in the parking lot of the Federal Building, gathered their weapons and loaded into the trucks waiting for them. The building they reached was an abandoned hangar. On the pavement were scattered empty crates and boxes; most part of the roof had collapsed, littering the ground with every kind of team's member broke up and headed of their destinations Chris looked carefully around and then gestured Vin to take up position. With cat–like grace the young man climbed the ladder.

It was a very hot afternoon and beads of sweat were running on his face as he stretched out on the scaffold. He smiled by himself **Damn, if I had my kevlar vest on, I'll be drenched ta the bones, by now. Thanks God, Chris didn't notice it.**

He waited, looking at the opened front door of the building, motionless. From his point of view he could see the truck in which Josiah and two members of Team 3 were standing, and the dark figure of his best friend with Ezra at his side in the middle of the room Turning a bit to his right he scooped Buck and three other agents at the back door.

For a few second, he wondered where Nathan could be but this answer was thrown out his mind as he heard a car screaming to a stop in the parking area of the warehouse. He looked down and he saw just behind it a black truck pulling in. Five men got out of the truck, their gun drawn, positioning themselves at the two sides of the car and from it got out a dark man and two very tall, thick guys dressed in white jeans and purple t-shirt. The man barked a command and his thugs spread over the ground and entered the warehouse. Ezra greeted the newcomers. They talked for a while and then Chris approached bringing a leather suitcase, he opened it and showed its content to the man, that turned and motioned for the truck. At once, a very heavy box was brought into the building and quickly unsealed revealing the deadly object of the "merchandize"

Larabee leaned on the box, picked up an automatic rifle and examined it.

All of a sudden, a fat man came out of the parked car.

He approached the group, laughing.

"Hello Larabee, nice to meet you again!" He cried out.

"Murdock!" Chris shouted.

"Kill 'em, they are Feds!" Murdock hollered.

Vin clenched his teeth as he noticed two bodyguards pointing their guns at Chris and Ezra across the warehouse.

He coldly lowered his rifle , took aim and fired twice in succession dropping both men. A minute later the agents rushed shouting and firing into the building and looking at the turmoil under him the sharpshooter sighed in relief as he saw that his best friend and Ezra had found shelter into the little office near the front door.

He heard the sound of footsteps running and of several screams as Buck launched himself into the large room from the back door and shot out cold three of their opponents as another agent took out two more of them.

"Only two left," Vin, thought, smiling.

His eagle's eye scooped the room and he froze. Murdock was slowly making his way through the piles of boxes and crates. He cursed softly as the man disappeared behind huge machinery, then he was again in his sight, just at Chris' back. He followed him through the scope of his rifle and let his finger pull the trigger. All happened too fast like in a nightmare, he heard the bark of his own weapon and its familiar kick against his shoulder and at the same time in his view, Murdock's head was replaced by J.D.'s upper body. The kid was just behind Murdock and having him in sigh, had abruptly broken his cover to fire at him.

Vin jumped to his feet, "J.D! Nooo!" He cried out.

At Vin's frantic cry, Buck turned and saw the younger man hitting the ground, holding his bloody left shoulder.

"J.D.!" he called out running across the warehouse.

He dropped to J.D 's side," How ya doing, kid?"

"Just a scratch, Buck ," the boy murmured, panting hard.

"How are ya feelin'?"

"Hurts some."

"I wish Nathan were here!" Buck muttered, taking pressure on the wound with his handkerchief as J.D. moaned pitifully and went limp in his friend's arms.

Buck swore and looked up at Vin, still standing, pale and shaken on the scaffolding

The Texan lowered his weapon, and let his arms fall along his flanks, he had no choice, he must face his failure but his soul won't accept it.

He had to climb down, join his mates and then he would confront Chris.

Vin shuddered in the prospect of facing the man, of feeling those piercing, green eyes peer into his most carefully hidden thoughts, as he always so easily was able to. It wasn't going to be pleasant.

The weary young man closed his eyes against the world for a few moments, trying to control his racing heart.

"Get down, little bastard, what are you waiting for?"

Buck's deep voice cut into Vin's thoughts like a sharp blade.

Vin stared at the hard, unsmiling face.

"I' m sorry, Bucklin, it's m' fault, I know," he breathed.

"When I get my hands on you, Tanner, I'll leave you for the worms to chew on! Get down, scum, get down. I'd like to tear you apart with my bare hands!"

Buck's handsome face was hard as a rock and there was hatred in the menacing tone of the voice.

"Buck! That's enough! Leave him alone! It was a damn mistake," Larabee hollered.

"Hell, Chris the kid could be dead by now because of the "damn mistake" of your precious friend!" Buck shouted back in anger, facing Larabee.

"Calm down, Brother Buck, please!" Josiah intervened, pulling his powerful frame between the team's leader and his bewildered friend. "J.D. is still alive. Thank God."

"Okay, okay. Get down, Tanner, I'll shoot you… later," Buck snapped without a hint of humor in his tone, bending on J.D.

Chris glanced at the sharpshooter; Vin was shivering hard, his eyes pointed at some place outside the warehouse.

"Vin, you okay?" He shouted out.

The Texan didn't answer, something was wrong, he could feel it .His sharp gaze scanned the upper places outside the large windows and at last he scooped the man, nestled on the top of an half ruined water tower, facing the building, but it was too late.

The sniper's barrel came up and Vin saw the flash, and at the same time a shot echoed.

Vin cried out as a searing pain hit him square in the chest and he fell in a heap over his best friend's body.

All the men in the warehouse started to fire at the water tower, but the sniper was gone.

Chris tried to free himself from the death weight on his top and froze for something warm and sticky was dripping down his shirt.

"Buck! I need help here!" He shouted at his mustached friend, as he gently rolled the injured man over. "Damn it!" He groaned looking at the blood already soaking the young man 's white t–shirt just a few inches from his heart.

Tanner whimpered painfully. "Chr..ss," he managed to breath.

"Hush Tanner, you've been shot, lay still."

"That figger... Where's he?"

"The sniper?"

"Yes "

"Gone."

"Damn!" Vin muttered and then hissed in pain "…hurts.." he murmured shifting pain-clouded, wide, eyes from his own bleeding chest to Chris' pale face.

"That's.… bad?"

"Seen worse," Chris lied, avoiding the scrutinizing blue pools, "shut up, Tanner."

"Buck… where is Buck?" The Texan groaned.

"Right here, Slick, take it easy, don't try to talk," the ladies' man soothed, taking hold of the sharpshooter's limp hand.

"I'…. So sorry. Bucklin. so sorry fer the kid…. it'se m' f…." Vin slurred as his head slumped down onto Chris' shoulder

Chris cursed under his breath, looking at his unconscious friend in his arms.

And as a sudden he realized the fact that Murdock had carefully planned what could have happened to all of them, without Nathan's help.

"The ambulance is on its way," Ezra informed, then paused staring at Vin 's colorless face, as his lips trembled.

In the distance they could hear an approaching siren.

A few minutes' later two paramedics in blue EMT coveralls strode into the warehouse

"Please move back" the first medic ordered.

Kneeling at Chris' side he pried his arms off the younger man, who was now on his back , struggling vainly for breath, the blood coming evenly out of his chest and onto his shirt which was drenched with it.

The medic took off the t–shirt, ripping it with a little knife, and looked at the wound in Vin's right chest wall between the fourth and the fifth rib. He probed the hole, murmuring ."Struck the fourth rib, cracked it – deviated across the sternum – damn the bullet is still in and badly lodged – meant to kill the boy, the bastard!"

There was a little bleeding now around the injury's site and at every painful intake of breath, foaming blood bubbles exited from the wound."Oh, God! It's a sucking chest 's wound!" The medic exclaimed.

"What does it mean?" Chris asked, frowning.

"His chest wall is punctured, the sucking sound you hear when he is breathing is caused by air leaking in his chest cavity."

The man didn't make any attempt to clean the wound, but he immediately sealed it with his hand. Quickly he started to wrap the dressing around Vin's body, maintaining pressure. Then he waited until the injured man breathed out and when he held his breath, taking the bandage in place, he tied the knots just after Vin's chest fell again.

He continued for a while on taking his hands pressed on the dressing to control the bleeding as the other paramedic applied an IV on Vin's arm.

Carefully they lifted the limp body and laid it on a gurney, bent on the injured side to ease the patient's breath.

The paramedic spoke at his radio, "Here's Anderson, patient's 30 years old, chest sucking wound, no other injures, pulse weak but regular, some trouble breathing, occlusive dressing applied. I need a trauma unit." Once more he checked on Vin's breath and pulse and then hollered, "Hurry up!" They lifted the stretcher and made their way to the waiting ambulance, where the ambulance crew had already taken J.D.

As the men loaded up the gurney with the unconscious agent Chris tried to climb in, but the paramedic stopped his attempt. "Please, mister, we have two wounded men on board, there is no more place left, I'm sorry."

The man in black sighed and shook his head. "Right, I'll follow you," he muttered turning to his truck.

* * *

**AUGUST, 11 - Evening - St. Joseph hospital.  
**

Rain saw Chris entering the ER, she quickly crossed the muddied reception's area and caught up with him.

"How is he doing?" He asked.

"I must tell you the truth, Chris, very low, the bullet is badly lodged and the fever is far too high." Rain's dark eyes filled with tears, "we hope it will come down when we have extract the bullet. In a few minutes he will be prepped for surgery."

"Am I allowed to see him?"

"Yes, but just for a few moments. He never regained consciousness. I wish Nathan were here!"

"I too, girl, I too." Larabee whispered.

They went up to the ICU and entered the small room holding room, with curtained cubicles around its perimeter. There were three nurses on duty, which seemed very busy. Rain nodded at them and they retired to an empty cubicle and pulled the curtains behind them and in an alcove Chris faced Vin, whose bed had been adjusted by the nurses so that his head was in a semi–upright position.

His smooth chest was barely moving, his fine chiseled features as white as the thin sheet covering his naked body.

Chris reached for the slender hand, lying on the mattress, but Rain gently took hold of his forearm.

"Chris, please don't. The nurses bathed him with a special soap to kill the germs, right now, they are preparing him for surgery… you know."

The blonde nodded, sadly, he would like to touch his friend, to feel he was still alive, he would like to hold tight and to comfort his little brother".

He stepped to the bed and shutting firmly his moistening eyes he murmured."Vin, it's me, Chris, please, hang on, and hang on for the boys. for me, I beg you!."

Rain glanced at the motionless form on the bed and shuddered in surprise as with a faint wail Vin turned a bit his curly head towards Larabee.

"Chris!" She exclaimed, "he can hear you, I can't figure out how, but he knows you are here."

Nathan had explained her the strange sort of link between the two.

** "Rain, they can speak to each other without words, they can share thoughts and feelings as if they were next of kin!" **

Reminding now of Nathan's words she smiled at Chris."That's good. He knows he's not alone, that there is someone caring for him and so I'll find the strength to fight for his life "

"He is a fighter, Rain, he'll never give up!" Chris firmly stated.

Rain studied for a while the young man's tense, ashen face. "He ought to have taken some medications to ease the pain, with some sips of water," she said in deep concern, "but the nurses weren't able to make him drink."

"I'll make him drink," Larabee stated, pointing his piercing green gaze on her .The pretty dark girl glared at him ."Chris you couldn't touch him, this is not safe!"

"I'll wash my hands," the blonde offered. Rain sighed and turning to the nurse she asked, "Pam, would you mind to lend Mr. Larabee your gloves ?"

"Thanks!" Chris said. Smiling he pulled on the gloves as he moved over to Vin. He reached out and placed his hand on the younger man 's forearm.

"Vin, can you hear me?" he whispered, the young man didn't move, but his eyelids fluttered.

"C'mon, pard, I want you to drink something for me," Chris said taking the offered cup from Rain's hand. Raising carefully the sweaty head from the pillow he brought the cup to the pale lips that parted as Vin swallowed slowly some sips of the cold liquid.

Rain stared at the pair transfixed, the sharpshooter was obviously unconscious but Chris had been able to speak to him, and to make him drink the water the young man needed to have some respite from the unrelenting pain.

"Rest, Vin, rest now, I'll be here , as long as you need me," Chris murmured, brushing slightly the tousled head. As he lowered the unresisting young man gently back to the pillows.

"It's time, Chris," Rain urged as two nurses entered the room with a cart. They transferred carefully the young man to it and wheeled him out of the room. "I'll stay with him all the time." Rain assured.

She shivered as she entered the cold OR room.

Then she took her sorrowful eyes on Vin as he was laid on the hard operating table and stripped to be washed once more while his arms and ankles were secured with straps to it. As long as there was the procedure to focus on, she felt as if she could keep from exploding. She watched as the tubes and the needed devices were placed and attached to the wiry body wincing as Vin flinched reflexively as the needles stung his aching flesh.

But she felt a cold hand gripping his throat at the first incision as she saw the blood. This was one of the dozens of surgeries she had observed, to be sure, but she had never experienced before this cold, deliberate ooze in the slow track of the scalpel from the body of a friend.

"We will have to raise the rib… up, up a little more…." the surgeon was muttering and in Rain's ears echoed the metallic clash of instruments. Then directions again. She swallowed hard and let her eyes shut.

"Here it is," the surgeon said "Mc Fee, is the bullet whole?"

"Yes, doctor, quite whole."

"Thanks God!"

Rain forced her eyes to open and looked at Tanner, the young man's face was now gray, his breath swallow.

Her gaze moved down to Vin's chest, she could see deep into the throbbing cavity, then the surgeon 's back hid the wound to her sight.

Short technical remark, a blur of competent activity and there was Vin, his chest encircled by the white bandages, sponged, relaxed into a deep slumber.

Rain smiled in relief.

"It's over," she thought.

"Rain, you look wholly pale yourself, don't worry, we'll take good care of him," Lyn, the surgeon's assistant said, putting a warm, reassuring hand on the young doctor's slumped shoulder, "you need a break, he's in good hands, besides he's going to need you later."

The woman guided her towards the exit of the operating room and to the elevator.

"As soon they settle him down in the control room, I'll come to get you," she promised

Rain was starting to protest she would stay but Lyn resolutely put a finger to her lips and led her out of the swinging doors marked POSITIVELY NOT ADMITTANCE.

Chris was waiting for her just outside in the OR waiting room.

She approached, her sorrowful eyes on the man's pale and tense face, then drawing a deep breath, she spoke.

"Let me explain what happened to Vin: because of his wound his left lung collapsed and the bullet was badly located, so it took a good deal of time to extract it, and he lost some blood but he is going to be just fine."

The team's leader smiled faintly. "What about some coffee? Buck brought some sandwiches too from the cafeteria," he offered.

"Just some coffee, thanks!" the girl replied as she gratefully accepted the steaming cup and drained it.

"Got news for you, Nathan will be dismissed tomorrow morning, the wound wasn't too bad, he 's waiting for us in his room, to celebrate. So he said."

A warm sense of comfort filled Rain's soul. She sighed in relief and then she whispered,

"I'll come, but I want to stop at the chapel and to lit a candle in front of Mother's Mary statue."

"I didn't figure out you were a catholic," Chris said in wonder.

"No, I'm not, but Vin's mother was and I feel she is here now... in soul… counting on a miracle."

"Mind if I join you?" Chris asked with a smirk.

"You are welcome, Mr. Larabee," Rain whispered softly, clasping Chris' hand.

* * *

**AUGUST, 12 - Late morning - St. Joseph Hospital - Denver.  
**

Murdock sat hiding behind the morning paper in the waiting room of the hospital, as if awaiting a friend, he had planned carefully this "visit".

After his fortunate escape from the warehouse he had been able to collect all the information he needed to end up with team 7,.Being a compulsive planner he had adapted and adjusted his plan to suit the moment. Focusing almost single–mindedly on bringing Larabee to his knees, and now here he was taking personally care of his task.

He eyed each person looking for his target: the surgeon. Finally spotted his man, a tall, lean man in his fifties. The man was heading for his office. Murdock followed him, keeping a decent distance. Then he checked the corridor and the hall, they were empty .He paused about five minutes, holding his breath and then silently slipped into the cabinet.

The doctor was sitting at his desk, eyes half closed, muttering to him. His face was the color of clay. On the table was a container filled with a little amount of some white stuff. Murdock approached.

"Doctor Mason?"

The older man shivered and stared at him, frowning."Who are you?" He asked in a trembling voice.

"I could say, I'm a friend of yours," Murdock laughed, a little too loudly and pointed his thick lips and little arrogant eyes on the doctor's sweaty face.

"I've never seen you before! Who are you?" Mason asked swallowing.

Now he was looking largely puzzled, his eyes wide with fear under his steel-rimmed glasses.

Murdock leaned on the table; he took the small container, dipped his coarse finger into the powder and sniffed it, nodding in appreciation.

"My compliments, doc, that's good white stuff."

"What the hell are you playing at?" The doctor murmured.

"Calm down, doc, I've just told you I'm a friend. A friend who knows your little secret and I'm willing to help you and on the other hand, you might be as well a very good help on a little business of mine."

"What are you talking about?" Mason exhaled, licking his dried lips.

"About a patient of yours, doc."

"I… I don't understand."

"You had better to… Mason, for your own sake."

"What?" the older man whispered.

"Well, name 's Tanner, Vincent Tanner… I want him dead."

For a moment, the doctor lost his faculty to speak. Then he managed to utter, "You can't ask me to do such an awful thing!"

"Look, doc, the man is barely alive, a little loss of blood a wrong medicine and he's done for, without any suspect on you, he sustained open heart surgery…"

"No… you can't ask me this!"

"Doctor Mason," Murdock said with a deep sight, " I'm afraid you may have more problems then either of your thoughts. What about your precious mind, what about your skills without the stuff my men so liberally offered you for so many… years? And what if I'd "share" my findings on your "habit" with some VIP in here?"

The doctor frowned, his haggard, old face flushing in anger and shame.

"Are you trying to blackmail me?" He muttered his voice dull and metallic.

"No, Mason, I 'm simply asking for help, you know what I mean…you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours…"

* * *

**AUGUST, 12 – Afternoon - St. Joseph Hospital - Denver.**

The vast ER unit of St. Joseph hospital was in noisy but controlled disarray. The drama and the energy of the place was palpable to Chris as he sat in the little waiting room. Barely aware of Buck and Josiah at his sides, he stared numbly at the wall, fear mounting in his chest and in his throat and the sight of Vin lying in a pool of blood on the ground still in his mind.

A young, tall doctor in white stepped into the room.

"One of you is Mr. Wilmington?" he asked cheerfully.

Buck jumped on his feet.

"How is the kid, doc ?"

The young doctor looked up at the tall, mustached man in surprise.

"I'm allowed to speak about our patient's condition only to close relatives," he murmured, frowning.

"The kid has got no family, doctor, we all are his "family", Chris answered in a low, steady tone as stood up facing the younger man.

"My name is Larabee, Chris Larabee, I'm J.D's boss and the others his mates from the ATF team 7."

Stretching his hand towards him the young doctor smiled broadly. "I'll be proud to shake your hand, Mr. Larabee, your team is a living legend in Denver!"

"Glad to meet you," Chris said, vigorously shaking the thin young doctor's hand. "Now, what about the kid?"

"Mr. Dunne is coming along well. The bullet went straight through, It'll take a few minutes to get him settled in his room."

"Thanks, Doc," Chris said and then after a painful pause,he asked, glancing at the empty corridor behind the doctor's back, "you have got another of my men here, what about him?"

"I mean you are referring to Mr. Tanner, I'm sorry, I've heard he's still critical, that's all. I'll see what I can find out... be back as soon as possible," the doctor said and hurried to the door.

Chris fought to control his jangling nerves, as fists clenche , he let himself fall onto the chair again with a deep sigh, closing his eyes.

* * *

**AUGUST, 12 - Late afternoon - ICU**

IIt seemed to Vin he was down in the darkness for a very long time, he felt himself swimming off into misty darkness. The fog crept down on him, hanging straight up in the air. Time stood still. He slipped off the edge of the world into mist and silence.

Lights flickered behind his eyelids and he became aware of the bed in which he was lying and of the tightness of the sheets.A little later he became aware of the lines and tubes attached to his body, of the tube down his throat and of the straps holding him down on his back. He couldn't speak and he couldn't move!

Confusion flooded his senses, he panicked and weakly thrashed back and forth, with a piteous moan.

The kind face of a young nurse peered on him, a gentle hand brushes his cheek.

"Please, Mr. Tanner, try to hold still."

Pointing on her his blue, confused eyes Vin tried again to speak but the tube only allowed him to gasp, then cough.

"I'm Jeanie, your nurse, I'll take care of you, I' m going to ask you something, don't try to speak, only answer me nodding yes or shaking your head no.

"Are you in some pain?" Fighting to roll back eyelids that weighted a ton, Vin looked up at her and moaned again for his chest was killing him and he felt vulnerable and uneasy, strapped as he was on the narrow bed.

The nurse looked at his patient's scowling face and with motherly concern removed a damp strand of light brown curls from his forehead.

"I know, all these lines and tubes are uncomfortable but I can't take them off, they will be removed in a day or two, for now try to breath and relax," she said, in a reassuring tone, "you had had open heart surgery and you need all of them to recover."

Vin let his eyes shut and tried to concentrate his muddled mind on breathing. Nevertheless, he badly wanted those darn things removed and began to thrash again, fighting his bounds, he was so uncomfortable that he couldn't help but thrash.

The nurse frowned "Pam!" She called out and another little fat nurse appeared behind her, "Stay with him, I'm going to find doctor Mason," she said, hurrying to the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Countin' on a Miracle - Chapter 2**

**by Chris and rosyvin**

**AUGUST, 12 - Late afternoon – Nathan's Room.  
**

Nathan sat on the bed reading a newspaper as Rain came into the room.

"May a doctor ask how her favorite patient is doing?" She joked, leaning over him.

"I feel wonderful whenever I look at you, my beautiful doctor," the black agent said smiling.

"I've just had the last report on Vin's conditions, he 's doing real good, would you mind to get a look?", she said professionally landing him a big envelope, "I'd appreciate your opinion."

"I see… and did you come here only because of this?" Nathan asked, narrowing his eyes.

The young doctor smiled and sat on the bed, glancing at the black agent with bright, sweet eyes, as she put her hand on his cheek and slightly caressed it.

"I've missed you, strong man," she whispered.

"I've missed you too, girl," Nathan murmured in response taking hold of her hand and kissing it. Then he embraced her, closing his eyes, grateful only to have her in his arms, to smell the light fragrance of her skin.

They sat for a while, in a comfortable silence. Then he let her go with a sigh.

"Well, let's get a look at this," he said and turning his attention to the envelope she has brought, he opened it, spreading its content in front of him on the bed and as a sudden he faltered, a cold hand gripping his throat.

"What's wrong, Nathan?" Rain asked, frowning.

"I don't exactly know, a sort of bad feeling about Vin," he said hesitantly.

"What are you talking about?" She asked in surprise.

"I can't explain it, Rain, but every time one of our team is hurt or in peril I can feel it, believe me Rain, I can feel it," he continued, as he clutched hold of her arm, in a tense tone, "please, I know it doesn't make any sense but please go to check on him, now!"

"Now?" Rain asked puzzled.

"Please, Rain, trust me, something is going to happen!" Nathan stated firmly.

Trying to make up her mind what to do, the young doctor rose to her feet, but as Jackson looked at her with his brown, sorrowful eyes, she nodded in agreement and walked off.

* * *

**AUGUST, 12 – Late afternoon – St. Joseph Hospital - ICU.**

The nurse reached doctor's Mason office and knocked slightly, without any response, she paused as the door slid open and the doctor exited, followed by a man.

She studied him for a while; he was a very strange "visitor", a thick middle-aged man in an expensive Italian light gray suit, a dark trilby shadowing a coarse face.

"What's the matter, nurse?" Mason asked in a trembling, uncertain tone.

"It's n. 344, sir," she said cautiously, knowing that the man she was taking care of, was a Fed, and thinking not to be safe to tell his name in the presence of that man.

"What's wrong with him?" The doctor briskly asked.

"He is in pain, severe pain," Lyn whispered.

The thick man smiled evilly at the doctor.

"Well, doc, it' s going to be a very easy task," he said, a sinister twinkle in his dark eyes, and then he resolutely headed for the elevator, disappearing from their sight.

Doctor Mason paled but didn't utter a word, he followed in a deep silence the nurse to the control room but on the door he turned and said, "I'd love to have a word with my assistant, at once, would you mind telling him?"

"Yes, doctor Mason."

The doctor entered the room and dismissed the other nurse. "Go back to your duty, Mrs. Palmer, I'll take care of the patient here."

He glanced at the semi-conscious sharpshooter, Vin was panting hard, concentrating on getting air in past the intense pain in his chest, his lips were moving but his words were jumbled. Doctor's Mason 's hand hesitated as he reached for the control panel of the ventilator, this man seemed to him so young, so frail and so vulnerable in his present condition that for one moment he felt pity for him. He was fighting hard to survive, but Mason knew he had to do this.

"Sorry, kid! I've no choice!" He whispered, turning the ventilator off "It will be over soon."

Vin whimpered, his mouth opened searching desperately for air as his blue eyes partially opened stared wildly at the doctor, then his body arched on the narrow bed as the wiry arms pulled weakly at its restrains and as a sudden he went limp falling again onto his back, motionless.

Doctor Mason stood near the bed, his mind was screaming at him to get away, but he couldn't for his trembling legs refused to move. His head was spinning.

As the haunting sound of the alarm from the monitor broke the silence, the door swung open. Rain rushed into the room and saw the doctor standing there his hand still on the control panel of the ventilator. "Oh my…." she called out as her expert eyes realized what had just happened, "you killed him!" Mason looked at her with vacant eyes "I had to…. I'm so sorry but I had to..." he said in a whisper and with an unexpected quick movement he slipped out of the room into the corridor.

Rain glared in horror at the patient's cardiac tracing on the overhead monitor showing an absolutely straight line. "His heart stopped!" she cried out and in a minute the control room was filled with a whirlwind of nurses and doctors that surrounded the unmoving young man trying to bring him to life again.

From the waiting room, Chris and the boys noticed the turmoil and ran to the ICU. From the glass partition, they saw the frantic activity around their friend. Chris looked up at the ECG monitor over Vin's bed and shuddered. "He's dead," he whispered, "he 's dead!" He repeated. Nothing he had ever seen before not even Sara's and Adam's deaths, had fully prepared him for the sight of his best friend at the center of the most extreme of medical dramas, a cardiac arrest.

Through the large window he could only see Vin's slight form and part of his angular handsome profile, leaning on the pillow, shaded by the always-unruly locks.

"Murdock warned me. It's my fault, he was killed because of me!" He murmured as a single tear stained his sharp cheek.

Only now, Buck noticed a torn sheet of paper in his friend's hand.

"Got another message?" He asked warily.

The man in black nodded and shoved it to his stunned companions.

Ezra grabbed the paper and began slowly to read.

_Six little ATF boys _  
_Going out for a ride _  
_One lost his breath _  
_And then they were five! _

_Only five left. Larabee! _

_Murdock_

"He didn't mention J.D!" Buck pointed out.

"Maybe he's out on his reckoning," Ezra said.

Buck severely glared at him, "This is not the right time for your practical jokes, Standish," he muttered, nodding at their bewildered leader that was trying to force the control room's door.

"Stop it, Chris," he pleaded, holding him by his shoulder.

"Leave me alone!" Chris shouted, "I want to get there, to say good-bye to him!" and freeing himself from Buck's grip he managed to open the door only a slit.

"Chris, calm down!" A low, warm voice said, as a strong hand rested on Larabee's arm. Nathan Jackson was there in his hospital gown. After Rain's departure, unable to wait for her return, he has followed her.

"He 's not gone yet, I assure you, they are bringing him back!" he said in a reassuring tone. Chris stopped and looked through the glass. From the half opened door he heard Rain's voice shouting "Clear!"

Then he heard the pop of high voltage electricity as the paddles discharged their energy into Vin's body. Through the crowd of technicians, nurses and physicians he saw Vin's arms flap upward, then drop. The cardiac tracing showed again the straight line for several seconds then complexes lines began moving across the screen, very slowly at first and then faster.

"I've got a pulse, I've got a pulse!" cried out Rain.

Chris stared down at the narrow bed where his friend lay deathly pale, at the tube now snaking up into his nose and the larger one inserted into his mouth, and shivered.

"Leave them work on him!" Nathan whispered.

Green lost eyes searched the black 's healer open face. "Are you really sure about this, Nathan, aren't you?" Chris asked in a shaky whisper.

"I swear it!" Jackson said, and in his mind he whispered, ** May God forgive me! ** as he guided a weary Larabee out in the corridor.

* * *

**AUGUST, 13 - Late Afternoon - St. Joseph hospital - ICU.**

Minutes? Hours? Days? How much time was gone by? For Chris time was completely lost within a swirling haze of thoughts.

Buck, Josiah and Erza had come and gone but he had never left the hospital.

And now he was still sitting near the window in the waiting room, looking absently at the darkening sky.

He felt a feather's touch on his shoulder, he turned and saw Rain in front of him.

Her face was tired and haggard but she smiled softly at the three men in the room.

"I don't know quite where to start. Shall I just tray to tell you more or less all that happened but first thing first I must say there is no imminent threat to Vin's life. They have inserted a temporary external cardiac pacemaker, but by now he is in a coma…" she said.

"Will he live through this?" Chris whispered, this desperate request was wrenched out of his heart. He waited for an answer shivering as all the feelings he had tried hard to keep at bay until now, sorrow, regret, fear, assaulted him, swirling in his excited mind. He barely heard in amazement the light, sweet voice of Rain as she whispered, "Well, I must tell that Vin hadn't a chance in ten thousand so said the surgeon, but he won out on the one chance denied him by the doctors."

Josiah smiled.

"They however cannot be blamed for their misjudgments. They had tended all their life on common people, who lived sheltered lives. Compared to our young brother they were all frail and flabby. Brother Vin has come straight from a world where the weak perish and shelter is granted to none. He clung to life, in spirit and flesh, with the strength he learned in this world," he said.

"I hope so, Josiah, I hope so." Rain murmured. "I must go, I want to tend to him, personally."

"You are an angel, girl." Nathan said taking hold of her hand.

"I wish I were!" She replayed in a sad whisper.

As she was gone, a deep silence fell on the room.

Josiah looked at his friends then turned to the window, his gaze at the glorious sky and at the ring of high mountains in the distance.

Vin loved those mountains, and the huge man saw in his mind the slender sharpshooter, standing precariously on the top of a ridge, his face lighted with a boyish smile and heard his infectious laugh as in the slow, soft drawl of his was challenging his friends to join him.

"God Lord," he prayed, "give our young brother the strength to survive, without him the world will be dark for most of us, he needs your help to fight more and win."

He paused, all the men in the room were staring at him and he knew he was giving voice to their own most secret prayers.

Again he pointed his eyes at the blue vault so similar in its deep color to Vin's eyes, and again he asked, "Give me a sign, my Lord, you would answer my plea…"

Chris closed his eyes silently joining his friends in touching invocation but a little noise made him turn to the door. Someone was pulling at the door's knob, he gestured at Buck that draw his gun as the door slowly opened and all the men shuddered in surprise for on the step was a scrawny boy, with large dark eyes and longish black hair, wearing a battered pair of jeans and a torn T-shirt that once had been white, a walkman in his hand. He stared at the man with the gun aimed at him then uttered,

"Desculpe senores," and tried to sneak across the corridor only to struck on the approaching Ezra.

"Well, well what have we here?" The undercover agent said, taking hold of the thin boy's arm.

"Pareze de me vez, leave me alone!" The boy complained fighting the stronger man's grip on him.

"Leave him be, Ezra," Chris ordered, then questioned the boy. "Who are you?"

"Name's Manuel Maria Morales, senor," the young boy said with a proud shroud of his slender shoulders, looking up at Chris with fearless, calm eyes.

"I came to see my friend, Vincente. I'm a neighbor of his in Purgatorio."

Vin was very close to the boys living in Purgatorio, providing them shelter and food and also buying them little gifts for they reminded him of his lonely life in the street as a kid. Chris strongly suspected he was always running short of money because of this. However, he couldn't blame his friend.

Shaking his head, he asked in a gentler tone,

"How do you know he is in here?"

"I'm a smart one, senor, I heard this from my mother, she works here as a nurse," the boy answered with a strikingly white smile.

"Dear young brother, your friend is ill, seriously ill and no one is allowed to see him," Josiah intervened.

"Senor, I'm a fully grown man, Vincente's not ill, he was shot," the boy said with annoyance," he was shot lot of times and I always came here to visit him."

"Boy, by now Vin is in the ICU," Chris explained warily.

"Madre de Dios is he.… dying?" The boy stammered, his firm, well shaped mouth trembled in fear and as sudden his confident attitude faded away as silent tears slipped out of his wide eyes.

"Whoa, young man, he 's gonna be just fine… he's strong… and he won't be pleased to see you in tears' cause of him," Buck soothed.

"I wanted him to know about his gift," Manuel sobbed, " he gave this to me last week for my birthday… I've never had such sort of things," as he was talking he caressed lovingly the little walkman in his hands.

Chris stepped in and knelt beside the boy.

"Do you know me, Manuel?" The boy looked up at the tall man in black.

"You are Chris, Vincente's boss."

"Do you trust me, Manuel?"

"Si, senor," the boy whispered," Vin said you are "su hermano."

"I'll tell him everything when he wakes up," Chris stated, patting slightly the boy's narrow shoulder.

"Verdad?" Manuel asked sniffing. "Would you like to listen to my favorite song?" He continued, hopefully.

"Sure thing, young man, we'll be very pleasant," Ezra said.

With a sweet, slow smile, Manuel pulled the switch on and a sweet light voice filled the room:

_I need a sign to let me know you're here. _  
_All of these lines are being crossed over the atmosphere._  
_I need to know that things are gonna look up_  
_'Cause I feel us, drowning in a sea spilled from a cup._

_Where there is no place safe and no safe place to put my head _  
_When you fell the world shake from the words that I said. _  
_And I'm calling all angels _  
_And I'm calling all you angels _

_And I won't give up if you don't give up _  
_I won't give up if you don't give up _  
_I won't give up if you don't give up _  
_I won't give up if you don't give up _

_I need a sign to let me know you are here _  
_For my TV set just keeps it all from being clear _  
_I want a reason for the way things have to be _  
_I need a hand to help built up some kind of hope inside of me _

_And I'm calling all angels, _  
_And I'm calling all you angels._

Josiah listened to the song, and smiled, looking up again at the sky "Thanks, my Lord!" He uttered.

"Come on, Josiah," Chris called out, "how could you be so sure, it's only a song!"

"You're right, brother Chris, but the pure soul of a child brought it here to help a friend, and the faith of such a soul can move the mountains, so believe me, we'll have the miracle we are asking for."

Then turned again to the boy. "Let me take you back to your mother, Manuel," he said guiding him towards the door.

* * *

**AUGUST, 14 - Late afternoon - St. Joseph hospital.**

As Buck entered the desert waiting room in the late afternoon, Chris was still there . He studied the torn, pale man in front of him and spoke softly to him.

"Chris, you've been up there since Vin was shot, you need some rest, go home for a while to have something to eat and a change of clothes." The team's leader jerked his head up and looked at his friend with a mixture of resentment and anxiety.

"They didn't allow me to stay in his room," he mumbled, blinking his glazed eyes vacantly.

** He is not here, his body is but he's not really here.** Wilmington thought.

"You feel up to go home just for a few hours? I'll bring you back... I promise."

Larabee closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'd rather stay than wait someplace else!" he stated stiffly, hunching his shoulders in defeat.

For a few moments no one spoke.

"How 's the kid?" Chris asked after a while.

"J.D. will be released on tomorrow morning," Buck reported

"Why don't you pay him a visit, Buck?" Chris suggested in a trembling voice.

"Are you okay?" The ladies' man asked in concern.

"It's nothing, Buck, I'll be all right as soon as I can pull myself together."

Buck sighed deeply and left the room.

Larabee stared at the now empty room, no sounds except for the pounding of his own heart. He firmly shut his red - rimmed eyes and "called" for Vin. In an odd way he was aware in his soul he could "reach" his friend.

It had happened on Christmas' eve. It had snowed hard and the snow has hidden the thin layer of ice covering the street. So on the way back to the ranch Chris' truck had slipped on the icy ground, crashing into the guide rail.

Chris had hit his head hard onto the windshield losing consciousness. He had awoken in Vin's flat, and when he had asked Tanner, "How did you find me?" The laconic Texan had drawled, "Ya called fer me."

At the astonished look in Chris's face the sharpshooter, staring at his friend with his innocent sky blue eyes had explained with a sort of annoyance in the soft voice of his. "Last evenin', I'se a mite worn out , dined all alone, had a couple o' beers and went ta bed early... I fell asleep but ' round midnight the wind awoke me, blowin' hard across the windows. and in the wind I heard ya callin' fer me, is all."

After Sarah's and Adam's death Larabee he'd promised himself he'd put some distance between himself and the people but when he met Vin Tanner he as sudden realized that no matter how hardened he had become to everything else, he wouldn't have been able to refuse the quiet young man's offer for friendship.

"Mr. Larabee?" A kind, cultivated voice asked.

Chris opened his eyes and in front of him was the young doctor.

"How is my…. brother?" he asked warily.

"Brother?, I thought his name was Tanner," the doctor observed.

"Vin 's my half–brother," Chris explained, carrying on the "innocent" lie which always allowed him to sit with his friend on his too frequent forced stays in hospital.

"I see, that's why there is no resemblance between you two," the doctor mumbled.

"I reckon," Chris muttered in response, cutting it short.

"Look, Mr. Larabee your brother, he is still in a coma, but he can breath without any help but an oxygen cannula and were able to free him from all the wires and tubes but he is restless, and still in pain. Mr. Jackson talked to me and I agreed to let you sit with him, to keep him quiet."

"Thanks, doc," Chris said with a faint smile. Then quickly rose to his feet and followed the doctor to Vin's room.

* * *

Vin was lying on the bed still, too still, his color was a frightening dusky gray and a light spattering of freckles was now visible, trailing across the top of his nose disclosing an air of youthfulness that tore into Chris' heart.

He took a deep breath and bent on him. He put his hand very gently down the edge of the strong jaw and down the exposed throat , stopping at the soft depression where the pulse hides and felt the strong beating of his friend's heart. This motionless body was Vin, the cool sharpshooter capable of blowing a villain's brains off without a smirk, was he. The easy going "kid" teasing him with that cocky, lopsided grin and planning "pranks" on his team's mates was he.

But by now all Chris could feel, standing here near this silent body was the dreadful absence of the living soul in it.

All he wanted was for the soul to come back, the blue eyes to open.

He sat at Vin's bedside, confused, alone, unable to feel anything more, unable to hear anything but the light, regular breath coming from Vin's slightly parted, colorless lips. Vacillating between desolation, fear and anger, he gripped Vin's limp hand firmly in his own.

"Vin, your hand is so cold!" he murmured and he held on, all the more tightly and "prayed" for some "contact" with that lost soul.

"Where are you, pard? Come back, for the boys, come back…. For me!" He breathed, his voice sounding uncertain and lost.

"Ain't about ta leave y' all, Larabee," a distant, soft drawl answered and faltering in surprise Chris felt Vin's fingers clutching weakly at his hand: their fingers entwined, the two hands sank back to the cotton sheets.

"We all won't let you, brother," Chris murmured tightening his grip.

Then he let his weary head rest against the uncomfortable chair's back and he fell asleep, for the first time.

* * *

A faint moan startled him: a morning ray of the sun had found a chink in the curtain, hitting Vin's face, moving from his eyes to his forehead as he twisted in the narrow bed. He was lying there naked, with the covers pushed down and away from his body and the hospital gown ridden up, but Tanner was too seized by pain to bother about his own nakedness.

Chris leaned on his friend and put his hand on his forearm, squeezing gently.

For some moments, Vin held his painful breath, then blinked in an attempt to clear his vision and looked up at Chris.

"Ch…ris?" he murmured, his voice frail and broken.

"Morning, Vin, welcome back!" Chris smiled.

"Where..… am… I?" Tanner's voice sounded blurred.

"In Denver St. Joseph hospital, pard. You were shot, remember?"

The Texan' s brow furrowed then it was like a movie-projector operating inside his head, throwing in a slow sequence images of the past events on to the white screen that was his mind. He saw the warehouse, Murdock, the barrel of a rifle… J.D.

Confused, frightened, blue eyes bored into Chris'.

"J.D., …I shot… J.D. … oh… hell!" Vin exhaled in a anguished whisper as his body jerked on the bed assaulted by a new wave of pain, "It'se... m' fault… mine... and nobody's else.… I'll never... forgive... m'self!"

"It's okay, it's okay, brother, the kid is just fine, I assure you, lie still, please!" Chris soothed.

"Is… J.D… alive?" Tanner urged again panting hard in the effort to speak as his dreadful weak hand pulled at Chris' sleeve.

The blonde took firm hold of the icy cold fingers and leaning further, he said,

"You did all right, Vin, now you mustn't talk, try to relax."

" 'kay," Vin sighed then shot at Chris an inquisitive glare.

"How long have you been here?"

"Days," Chris said with a lightness he didn't feel.

"You are a mess, old timer."

"You aint' a sight either, Tanner!"

Vin tried to utter another wry remark but as a sudden, he gasped as his body squirmed and jittered in the bed.

Chris' face darkened in alarm. "What's up, pard? Are you having pain?"

Vin took a breath through his nose, nodding slightly.

"Some," he managed in an half grunt.

Larabee frowned. The stubborn Texan never showed his pain, but now his sufferings could be unbearable.

"I'm going to get a nurse," Chris said, turning abruptly towards the door.

"Chris... don't… wait…." Vin pleaded softly.

"What in hell…"

"Ain't… decent… please… cover me, first."

Chris couldn't help but laughing at the panicked look in Vin's wide eyes.

"Okay, Tanner, but don't get too used to this! I don't have time to baby–sit you!"

He muttered as he carefully covered Vin back up with the light sheet.

"Thanks… cowboy," Vin murmured, closing his eyes. The effort to speak had exhausted him.

In a few minutes, Chris returned with the nurse. She smiled at the uneasy patient and checked his carotid pulses on either side of his neck. They were regular but thready. Vin's face looked strained and stern and he was clenching his fists, fidgeting on the bed.

"Why is he in such a pain?" Chris asked.

"Don't worry, Mr. Larabee, the pain is due to the spreading of his breastbone, muscle and ligaments during the surgery. It will gradually go away, but it may take some weeks, I'm sorry!" The nurse explained.

"I'll try to get your brother more comfortable." She softly spoke to Vin, "Mr. Tanner, would you like to sit up, for a while?" She asked.

"It would… be great…" the sharpshooter said, nodding enthusiastically.

With Chris' help, they lifted the bed in an upright position and put some pillows under Vin's back.

Vin sighed in relief.

"How are you feeling, now?" Chris asked.

"Like…. heaven, pard," Vin murmured then winced.

"I'm going to give you some morphine," the nurse urged.

"Don't wanna that darn stuff, it makes me sick an' drowsy," Vin muttered.

"C'mon, Tanner you need it," Chris intervened.

"Told ya, I don't wanna the darn morphine," Vin stubbornly growled, "I'm fine… I wouldn't want… anybody to fuss… with me." The nurse shot at Chris a surprised look, she was used to patients in Vin's present condition, begging all the time for any sort of painkillers.

"Is your brother always that stubborn?" She asked in wonder.

"Well, Pam he 's more stubborn than most!" Chris stated, rolling his eyes.

"Please, Mr. Tanner you will need to take your medications," she said, making another attempt.

"I'm jist… fine, Pam," Vin groused, shutting his eyes and whimpering.

"May I have a word in private with my brother, Pam?" Chris politely asked.

"Of course, Mr. Larabee, take your time," the nurse smiled back and left the room.

Chris sat on the edge of the bed near his disgruntled friend.

"Tanner, for God's sake, take the morphine, you need it!" Chris rumbled.

"Don't wanna…. take it!"

"Listen to me, mule, the pain could get worse and much more difficult to control."

"Lemme be, Chris… jist tend yer business... and lemme tend mine…. I 'm mighty tired ta feel so weak, so helpless... and th' likes…"

"I know, but it's not weakness to accept some help, besides it will help a lot me and the boys not seeing you in such a pain."

A warm smile lighted Vin's haggard face ,"I had no doubt 'bout it," he whispered.

Pam returned holding a tray.

"Okay, girl, let's give my brother that shot… we made an arrangement. He promised to behave himself." Larabee said, patting Vin's shoulder

Pam picked up the syringe. "You are going to have a nice, little nap, Mr. Tanner," she continued, inserting the needle in the young man's vein.

"Name's Vin, …. I'd appreciate if you call me... this way, ma'm," the Texan drawled softly, glancing straight at her. Enthralled by that innocent, blue glare the stern nurse, with the bearing of someone with authority, blushed hard as if she were a shy teenager.

"You are welcome… Vin," she managed to utter, hardly regaining her self-control.

As she exited the room Chris bent on his friend with a wry smile. "Well, *Vin*, my guess is that Buck badly needs to take some lessons about *courting* from you."

"Oh hell, Chris, wanted only ta thank… her, properly, is all," Tanner groused ,stifling a yawn.

"Sure thing, smart ass, sure thing, she is a quite pretty gal but reckon far too old for you."

"Ain't .. you, by chance a mite….. jealous, old man?... I'll put in a good word fer you… if ya think it'd work."

"They doped you good, don't they? You are talking stuff and nonsense."

"Yer… fault... Larabee..." Vin slurred as his eyelids slowly closed.

"Sleep well, brother." The blonde murmured looking at the now peaceful face of his best friend.

* * *

**SEPTEMBER, 8 – Evening - Somewhere downtown - Denver.**

Murdock tossed away the newspaper in anger, he had just finished to read Doctor Mason's full confession 's and a long article about the legendary Team 7 with a huge photo of Vin Tanner on a wheelchair, leaving the hospital surrounded protectively by all his mates.

He looked around, a bare bulb , and steel reinforced windows that loaned the room the look of a jail , it was one of his hiding place on the battered computer on the desk a tall man was writing the lines of three new little poems.

A thug put his head round the door.

"Two women outside. They asked for you. Want to see them?"

"Let them in," Murdock muttered then turned to the man.

"Gush, they are all still alive."

"Don't fret, what about the women?"

"They are going to be nurses, Rhonda worked in St. Joseph hospital for a bit before joining us and Ligeia, you'll see her, she is "impressive" I paged them as I knew that Tanner was allowed to go home and to have at Larabee's ranch his rehab therapy."

"So they are going to help us to get rid of that lousy Texan."

"He is on at the end of my list, he's not so dangerous the shape he is, and I've planned to kill the little boy, his protector, Wilmington and Sanchez before."

"Hello Murdock!" a warm rich voice said.

On the door's frame was a young girl in a severe suit , with short hazel hair and large light green eyes, just behind her the strangest woman they had ever seen. She was wearing a black silk dress and by her neck dangled a cross of pure gold, her eyes were dark, slightly tilted at the end , in the perfectly shaped little face and dark as the darkest night were her long curls , bending on her shoulder, she moved with a sort of liquid , cold grace.

"Rhonda, Lygeia! Nice to see you!" Murdock hollered." Have a seat."

Then smiling broadly, he turned to his man." Gus, may I introduce you to our 'lady killers'?"

* * *

**SEPTEMBER, 26 - Early morning - The Ranch.**

The ranch was silent in the warm morning as Chris opened his eyes and studied the clock on the wall; it was 7 am, time for Vin to take his medications.

It was his task, now that the fourth nurse has left, being Vin an ornery and feisty patient. . He yawned and sighed, sitting up on the bed and reached for his clothes.

Shaving in the bathroom he thought about the last hell's week dealing with a dangerously quiet and silent Vin Tanner lying on the bed staring at the ceiling, never turning his head, never even looking at him, as he entered his room.

During his stay in the hospital, the young sharpshooter, tied as a prisoner in his bed, denied even movement by bandages, wires and tubes lingered out three long weeks. He slept most the time and dreamed much. In addition, in his dreams all the ghosts of his past arose, haunting him. He lived again his childhood and the fights he had fought all alone facing a hostile world. At such times he whimpered and growled in his sleep and only Chris was able to calm him down, speaking to him in a low whisper and reassuring him, holding his hand and stroking his damp locks.

Vin had complied eagerly the painful therapy to regain his breath, thus glaring at the ventilator and the Spirometer, and the other stuff of the telemetry unit as enemies during endless exercises, and dropping after every series of them, wholly spent onto the mattress, to fall into an exhausted, restless sleep.

When the last bandage and the last tube were taken off, he had endured, with a little shame because of his weakness the process to learn to walk again, for he had lain so long in bed that his muscles had lost their strength. For another week Tanner had struggled to stand up of his own refusing any help, the firm setting of his jaw warning even Chris not to interfere. So the blonde had learnt to stay at a respectful distance watching his proud and too independent friend's heroic efforts to walk down the corridor to the hall, tottering and swaying back and forth, but with a satisfied smile on his sweaty face.

* * *

At the beginning of the fourth week, Rain and Nathan were able to "compel" the doctors to let Vin out of the hospital and into the care of his friends . They gave Chris a letter with detailed instructions and provided a trained nurse for help.

So a very relaxed Vin Tanner was merrily "escorted" by all the team to Larabee's ranch and settled in the so called "Vin's room" in the back of the house, which Nathan had quickly transformed into a suitable "hospital room", borrowing all the due devices for the rehab therapy.

Chris brought books from his library and in the long nights, in which the young man couldn't sleep, started to read aloud for him. Vin had never spent much time on books , in school, the teachers bored him with their rote and rhetoric and he had left more out of disinterest than ignorance. Now the poems and the tragedies hastened his convalescence and provided the fuel for his imagination.

All seemed to be just fine when after the first two weeks at the ranch, Vin's behaviors abruptly changed. He became restless, gloomy, worried about the constant numbness in his shooting arm and the unrelenting aches between his shoulder blades and his neck. Sometimes Chris had spied him probing beneath the sheet the wound in his chest, a tense look in his pale face.

Then everything went wrong Vin quarreled, blushing hard at the nurse's "intrusions" during his daily shower, stubbornly refused to take his pills and to make any exercise , only picked at the food they prepared for him and fought every effort "to be fussed over like a papoose". As he literally declared to a cracked up Larabee when he was surprised on the attempt to sneak out to sleep in the stable.

* * *

Sighing Chris went downstairs and entered the kitchen. In a little tray, he put the box of pills, a glass of orange juice and a glass of water, then headed resolutely for the little bedroom in the left corner of the house.

Entering it, he felt a strange sense of uneasiness as he saw the empty bed and the crumpled sheet on the floor.

"Damn ! Where in hell is he?" he cursed. He rushed for the back door and stepped to the barn. His expert eye scanned the area and there was Vin, stretched out on the grass, not far from the spruce in front of the house. He was laying on his back, with only an old pair of jeans and his battered boots on, the angry scar on his bare chest in full light.

"For God's sake, Tanner, you should have stayed in bed. You are not yet fit to stay here!"

Without moving ,the Texan looked up at him, his severe eyes wide open. In them was a strange, blue fire then he sighed softly. His slight sigh was the more pitiful sound than any Larabee had heard before and he could feel how much Vin was suffering.

"Hush, Chris, I'm sayin' good-bye ta all this," he said in a soft drawl as his slender hands slowly caressed the thick green carpet around his body. Then trembling, he bit his lips and continued, "I arranged ta be taken back ta th' hospital, don't wanna be a burden ta' ya and ta the boys," he breathed, trying to stand up, his fine features covered in sweat, Larabee bent on him for help.

"No! I'll do it by m'self!" Vin shouted jerking his shoulder petulantly away from his friend's grip, and sitting upright on the ground.

Chris frowned studying the strong, young face. How young and defenseless now Vin looked to him!

"Did you speak to Rain about this ?" he asked in a low voice.

Vin nodded slightly, "She'll come ta pick me up tomorrow mornin'."

Chris didn't utter a sound, stunned by Tanner's sheer determination.

"Suit yourself," he said after a painful pause, "but by now let me put you back to bed, without any other argument. I must go to the office and J.D. will be here soon to take an eye on you."

Chris paused again, collecting his thoughts and staring at his "brother". Vin had closed his eyes and though all of him was immobile, his Adam's apple kept jumping up and down.

"About the hospital and... other... stuff we'll speak about it, tonight with all the team," Chris finished.

Vin shuddered, letting his chin fall on his chest.

"Larabee, don't git mad at me, I'm a sort of cripple, ya know," he whispered.

Chris knelt in front of his friend.

"Look at me, brother, look at me I want look at you straight in the face to be sure you are the real Vin Tanner, for the man who spoke to me right now wasn't him."

From behind the veil of brown locks falling on Vin's gaunt features, haunted, bottomless, blue eyes glared at Larabee.

"Be afraid and you'll be slain", so wrote William Shakespeare. I read you King's Richard's tragedy, and you were so enthralled by the words the king cried out on the battlefield, remember?"

"A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse….." Vin murmured with a smile.

"Now, brother, fear sometimes acts like poison on mind, your fear could make you lose your friends, your job, everything. Is that you want? I don't think so and in the name of our friendship, in the name of our brotherhood, I'm begging you, Vin Tanner… begging you to hold on and fight as you always did in your life."

Vin's smile broadened, he landed his hand to his friend…" Chris, help me up, please."

"Here we are, pard," Larabee promptly said, a warm sense of relief filling his chest.

Cautiously he helped the younger man on his feet and half carried him to his bedroom.

* * *

As his friend covered him with the light quilt Vin relaxed.

"Chris? Can ya borrow me the book of that English guy, that Will Shakespeare? I've never saw a book could tell th' truth like that one does."

"He wrote several books, Vin."

"That's good fer I have plenty of time ta read, trapped as I'm inta the darn bed. And now what about a real breakfast? I feel a mite empty."

"You sound just like J.D. I'll bring you some breakfast but you had to sweep up every bit I'm going to put into your plate to make amend for your escape. Be back in ten minutes, drink jour juice, take your pills and stay put," Chris ordered sharply.

"May I ask a question, Chris ?" The sharpshooter drawled, a twinkle in his eyes.

"Of course you can."

"Who gave you th' right to treat us all like a bunch of five years old children?"

"The simple fact you are just like this !"

"Watch yer back, man, I'm in store ta beat ya down ta size, one of those days," Tanner blurted out, then his weakness asserted itself and, his head on one side, he slipped into a quiet slumber.

He vaguely heard the chatter of a tray being set down and a light caress on his forehead and then Chris' steps retreating

smiling he turned over in the bed and fell into a deeper sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Countin' on a Miracle - Chapter 3**

**by Chris and rosyvin**

**SEPTEMBER, 26 - Evening - The Ranch.**

Vin awoke to warmth and quiet. As his eyes fluttered open, he recognized his own room at the ranch and sank onto the bed with a contented sight. The moonlight was streaming through the slats of the venetian blinds to make a pattern of lines on the floor. He managed to force another pillow under his back. He was nearly upright in bed now. Gamely, he pushed himself off the side of the bed, lurched across to the bureau turned the switch on and looked at his image into the mirror. Damn, he really was a mess: deep sockets under his eyes, and the usual tan replaced by an unhealthy pallor. His body like the soul inside him was worse far wear.

Studying the long scar on his bare chest, he felt something sink deeper and deeper into his soul. It left him empty and wondering. The confidence in him was gone, and a creeping anxiety had taken its place. He dressed in a t- shirt and an old pair of jeans. The pants hung low over his hips and once more, he sighed deeply. He glanced at the table–clock, it was 8 p.m. Chris would be on the way home with the boys, hehad called about two hours ago, ordering sharply him to stay in bed and let J.D take care of the horses.

Retrieving his battered boots he put them on and rose to his feet. The effort left him out of breath. He paused , wiping beaded sweat from his upper lip and as soon he felt that he had enough energy to move he crossed slowly the the dining room and opening the front door, he exited the porch: J.D.'s bike was parked in front of the house but the kid was nowhere to be seen. Vin crept quietly alongside the bike, pausing at intervals, inspecting the quiet corral and the white building of the stable - not a movement out there. He frowned; his sixth sense was telling him that something was wrong. And as a sudden a high scream broke abruptly the silence of the night. The Texan rocked to his feet, listening and the scream came again this time followed by a furious squeal. "Peso!" Vin hollered, rushing into the darkness outside towards the stable. His still weak legs tumbled twice under him but he, grimacing at the stabbing pain in his chest. managed to regain his footing. He approached the door and pulled at it with all his weight. It swung open and a dreadful sight showed in front of his eyes: J.D. was pinned against the wall as an enraged Peso, blowing and thrusting his head, was trying to kick him with his front legs "Peso! Stop it! Peso!" Vin cried out.

Tilting his head the powerful horse, his nostrils flaring with steam, bared his teeth and snorting in challenge turned to him.

Unmoving the Texan stood in the middle of the stable.

"What's wrong with ya, boy?" he soothed in the soft voice of his, pulling slowly his arms forward.

"Ain't nothin' to fear, nothin', it's only me and the kid."

Carefully he stepped forward.

"It's me, Peso, it's only me," he repeated in a mild, gentle tone.

Pawing the ground with his hoofs, the big black stopped a little distance away, his sensitive ears moving back and forth. And then lowering his head to adjust his vision he recognized his master. He whinnied softly in response. tossing his long mane.

"C'mon, Peso, calm down," Vin said persuasively and came nearer, till he laid his right hand on the beast's sweaty muzzle and let the other one slide on the horse 's neck, patting it slightly. The beast nickered as Vin gently caressed his powerful neck, nuzzling at the sharpshooter's long hair. "Here, here now, It's over, Peso, yer're safe, safe," Vin murmured, passing a lingering hand over his mane and slowly pinning the horse's ears forward.

"Let me take you back, now," Peso let himself guided to his stall box and stood still, his big brown, intelligent eyes on his master.

With a light, soft towel Vin moved on to a gentle flopping all over, the horse's tense body and then turned to J.D. "Bring me his blanket, kid, and help me ta cover him." He ordered.

As they finished their task Vin leaned on the wooden wall gulping air, he felt awful as if he had scarcely enough energy to breath, his head was spinning and a squeezing pain had begun to mushroom outward from beneath his breastbone and up into his neck.

"J.D. … need ta rest, fer a spell," he panted.

J.D looked up at the Texan: beads of sweat were running from his forehead on his sunken cheeks and he was deathly pale.

"You okay, Vin?" He asked in concern.

"Yeah, fine, J.D. everythin's fine."

Tanner whispered as his consciousness wavered then faded and he collapsed to the ground.

"Vin!" J.D. cried out leaning on his now senseless friend.

* * *

Chris was driving at a good speed on the road to the ranch, at his side was Nathan and on the back seat Josiah and Buck. He was filling the team about what had happened in the morning between him and the sharpshooter.

"So he told Rain he wanted to get back to the hospital. He is trying to slip away I feel it and that frightens me."

"I know what you mean, Chris, the boy is confused and depressed. His body is healing but too slowly and so his anxiety about his own recovery turned to fear and his fear in despair," Nathan explained.

In a low, shaky voice the team's leader went on, "Since last week he had refused to make his breathing exercises and to take his walks. I've found pills hidden everywhere, in his room, in the bathroom even in the stable. And just yesterday the fourth nurse Rain had sent asked to be relieved from her duty, she said to be used to deal with every kind of patients but that Vin was the most stubborn and nastiest 'child' she had ever met."

"That's fine, she wasn't exactly my type… I like prettiest women. She was just… a voluptuous, but rather ordinary looking blonde," Buck pointed out, licking his lips. "What about a brunette next time, Chris?" He boomed, tossing aside his empty can of beer.

Chris shot at his old friend a dirty look, as he pulled up at the ranch's front door.

The four men got out and entered the house.

"Hey, kids! We home with a whole ham from Nettie, all the fixin' and lot of beer! Get ready to the best dinner in your life," Buck hollered.

The TV was flickering in an empty dining room.

"Maybe they are in the bedroom," Chris suggested heading for the little room, but he found it empty. "Chris, Buck there's light in the stable." Nathan called out from the porch.

"Damn, I'm going to give J.D the lecture of his life, and to hog-tie that Texan stubborn mule to the bed this time," Chris growled.

"Chris, please don't be so hard on them!" Buck said softly.

"I can only promise not to shoot at them at once!" Chris shouted rushing to the door.

As Larabee and Nathan entered the stable, they froze: J.D. was sitting on the floor and in his lap rested, the tousled head of a pale, motionless Vin sprawled on the hay, his grunting respirations barely moving air.

"Nathan!" The younger man cried out, looking up at the healer in despair, "Help him!"

Jackson in a minute was at Vin's side.

He felt Vin's neck, then the arterial pulses at his elbow and wrists.

"He's in a state of shock and he's having some trouble breathing. Chris, help me to get him back to bed." Nathan ordered efficiently. Then casting a glance on the boy he said in concern, "You look a bit pale, J.D, let me have a look at you."

"I'm all right, Nathan, please take care of Vin, first."

"What happened ? " Chris urged.

"Vin saved me from Peso," J.D. murmured.

Buck hurriedly entered the stable. He was holding a sheet of paper in his hand.

"Another poem?" Chris asked, frowning.

Buck nodded, his face sullen and wary.

"Read it out loud!"

With a trembling voice unusual to him, Wilmington complied.

_Five little ATF boys _  
_Standing at the stable's door _  
_A huge horse kicked one _  
_And then they were four _  
_Four little ATF boys _  
_Wanted all the cards to see _  
_One drank too much _  
_And then they were three_

"It didn't happen, boys, and Vin is still alive." Josiah said.

"How long he'll be, preacher? They attempted to his life twice till now." Re–exerted the blonde

"The target was J.D, this time, Chris."

"I know, but it doesn't make me feel any better."

Sanchez turned to the horse, Peso was strangely quiet now. He stepped into the box and for long minutes, he examined him, carefully. His sharp gaze fell on a strange glittering object half covered by the straw , he bent on the ground and picked it up. It was a sort of syringe.

"Chris, have a look at this," he said showing it to the team's leader and pointing at a little bloodied rounded hole on the animal's neck.

"They drugged him, this is from a particular kind of weapon they use to knock down wild animals. A friend of mine, the 'curator', in Rocky Mountains' park has one of them." He explained.

And with a smile he added, "But they couldn't figure out that this stubborn mule won't never hurt his master."

In the meanwhile, Buck and Nathan had carefully lifted Tanner's limp body and were carrying him out of the stable to the house.

"He gonna be alright, Nathan?" Chris asked.

"I'll tell you when I have a good look at him."

* * *

Half an hour later, the young sharpshooter was in his bed, oxygen fed the small mask over his shiny with sweat, sallow face.

Nathan leaned on him, listening to his light, regular breathing

"He's asleep, this sleep is the greatest blessing: the first he has ever had."

"Don't you think we could ask for his doctor at the hospital ?" Larabee asked

"The boy here is only exhausted, Chris, what he did to save J.D. was physically and mentally a too big effort for a man that in a few days endured open heart surgery and suffered a cardiac arrest, I wonder how he managed even to stand in his present weakened conditions."

" 'cause he's Vin, our defiant Vin, and his heart's the size of Texas." J.D murmured glancing at he still form of his friend.

Jackson turned and looking sternly at the men crowding the little room, he ordered,

"Get outta here, now, Vin needs his rest. You all need some rest."

"As you wish, Nathan," Chris said, he would like to stay but he knew he had first to take care of his Team. He shot a last glance over the blanketed body on the bed and then left with the others.

* * *

**SEPTEMBER, 28 – Morning - The Ranch.**

The phone rang insistently as Chris was having his first coffee, he put the empty cup on the table and picked up the receiver quickly, "Larabee."

"This is Sergeant Griffin at Second Precinct."

"What is it, Sergeant Griffin?"

"Well, sir, last night we placed under arrest a man. He was driving an expensive European car and acting as if he were high on something–grass, alcohol, who knows?. Before losing consciousness he claimed to be an agent for ATF, name's Standish, Ezra Standish."

Chris stiffened "Where's he now, Agent Milton?"

"They took him to the hospital: he had a sort of seizure while they were transferring him to the police station."

"I'm sending agent Wilmington to check on him, thanks Agent Milton," Chris uttered slamming down the receiver.

"What's wrong, Chris ?" Buck asked.

"It's Ezra, he has had an accident, fetch my truck and get down to the hospital at once!" The blonde ordered.

* * *

As Buck drove away, a taxi pulled in and parked at the front door .A little nun got out of it.

She walked to the porch, stepped in and looking at the men with dark, wonderful eyes asked in a sweet voice, "Is this Mr. Larabee 's ranch?"

"Yes, sister, it is, may I help you?" Josiah asked smiling at her.

"My name is Sister Carrie, I'm the professional nurse you asked for"

"Nice to meet you, sister Carrie, we were waiting for you." Chris said with a slight bow. "Please, come in and have a seat." he continued, guiding her to the dining room.

The little pretty woman sat and again smiled at them.

Josiah stared at her as J.D burst into a muffled laugh.

She glanced at him and asked, "I was told you were Federal Agents, but aren't' you, boy, a bit too young for such a dangerous job?"

J.D. stiffened and was about to shoot something as Larabee prevented him.

"When I introduce you to your patient you will be surprised, he is a young man too as my friend J.D. here, but in spite of this, a very skilful agent."

"Can I see him?"

"He's sleeping at the moment, Mr. Jackson is with him."

"Is that Mr. Jackson his doctor?"

"No sister he's a special agent too, he's going to be a doctor."

Chris' cell rang again.

"Excuse me, sister," Chris said. He retired in a corner of the room and listened intently.

Then he got through the line and put down the receiver.

"Judge Travis asked me to meet him in his office for a roundabout. I'll take J.D. with me," he said turning to Josiah, then he paused, as if deciding something.

Vin had been since they have met each other, his confident, and his rock and now he was lying in a bed barely able to breathe and Chris as a sudden felt with vengeance the lack of his silent, reassuring presence at his side. He slowly headed for the door but on the step he turned again to the older agent.

"Josiah, please, take an eye on Vin."

"Our young brother is in good hands, Chris, go in peace!"

"Thanks!" Chris said," be back soon." Then he strode out with J.D at his heels.

The little nun stared at the cross dangling from Josiah's strong neck.

"I have heard your words and I see the cross you are wearing. Are you by chance a religious man, mister Sanchez?" She asked in a gentle, tiny voice.

"You'd say that, sister," Josiah said humbly with the broadest of his smiles.

"It's so rare to find such sort of men nowadays that I think it's a sort of blessing to have met you here," She whispered, lowering her long lashes and clasping her white little hands on her lap.

Before Josiah could answer, Nathan rushed into the dining room.

"What's up, brother Nathan?" Josiah asked in alarm.

The healer tossed his head in dismay.

"Vin's feverish, I 'm going to the hospital to pick up Rain, I want she to visit him as soon as possible."

"Nathan, may I introduce you to Vin's new nurse, sister Carrie?" Sanchez said.

Jackson looked up at the pretty nun.

Sister Carrie rose graciously to her feet, "Your friend will be okay with me and Mr. Sanchez, don't bother about it, doctor."

"Well, I will go then." The black agent said and hurried to the door.

* * *

**SEPTEMBER, 28 – Late Morning – St. Joseph Hospital: Parking lot.**

Buck drove intelligently on the way to the hospital. He arrived in no time He wheeled into the parking lot and parked under some trees and there he paused weeping his sweaty forehead, then he saw a girl, coming towards the truck.

Buck loomed at her light dress tightened around her body, and sighed. The girl waved at him, "Please, mister, can you help me? Something is wrong with my car."

"A damsel in distress, my favorite situation!" The ladies' man said by himself.

"Here we are, young lady, " he said aloud launching himself out of the truck.

With a strikingly white smile the young woman looked up at him. "My car is just out there," she said, leading the mustached agent to a yellow convertible parked on one side of the large alley.

Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, three cars roared to the curb, surrounding them. Doors opened and four figures in black stocking masks leapt out.

Then everything seemed to happen at once. Buck heard a swish of a descending club and a blinding light exploded inside his head and then all went dark.

The girl knelt on the fallen man then she smiled evilly. "He's out! Good job, boys. Take him to the car." Two men lifted the unconscious agent, cuffed his wrists and tossed him in the back of the car.

* * *

**SEPTEMBER, 28 - Afternoon – The Ranch.**

Opening slowly his eyes and cautiously taking a deep breath Vin moaned softly at the usual twinge in his chest, then he blinked as Josiah 's face peered at him.

He seemed to him so anxious that Vin screwed up a grin to reassure him.

"…hat happened?" He croaked.

"Don't you remember? You saved J.D. from Peso."

Vin furrowed his bow, looking confused, then nodded slightly, "How is the kid?" he asked warily.

"He' s fine, a bit shaky but just fine."

"The others?"

"You don't have to worry about them, right now. How do you feel?"

"Thirsty," Vin exhaled

"I'll bring some water, Mr. Sanchez," a feminine voice said and for the first time Vin noticed the little nun, standing behind his friend.

She smiled at the sharpshooter, handing Josiah a full glass from a tray.

"May I introduce myself? I'm sister Carrie, your new nurse," she said.

The sharpshooter didn't utter a sound, scanning suspiciously the woman's triangular face and as he met her dark glare he stiffened, his bow knitted, a sense of uneasiness growing in his gut.

"Is your chest bothering you?" Josiah thoughtfully asked.

"I'm fine," Vin said, his sharp gaze on the woman.

"Sure you are!" Josiah laughed, helping the weary young man to sit up and lifting the glass to his lips.

The Texan took a little tentative sip and gasped.

"Damn, it tastes jist like horse–piss…" he blurted out, then blushed, biting his lips. "I'm sorry, ma'm," he whispered, looking up sheepishly at the nun.

"Never mind, Mr. Tanner, I put in it some drops of the medications your doctor prescribed to help you to sleep," the nun explained.

"Don't need 'em. I've had enough of' 'em, I'm still drowsy 'cause of 'em!" Vin stubbornly growled.

"Please, brother Vin drink this down! If you could sleep, you'd be better in no time!" Josiah urged.

The sharpshooter turned his head, shutting firmly his mouth.

"Please, Mr. Tanner. Try to take only some sips of this," the nun insisted.

Vin knew he had better to drink, but something was wrong with that woman, his sharpened instincts were warning him against her.

Hesitantly he drank but as a bitter taste filled his mouth, he couldn't help himself but throwing up the unpleasant liquid. "Oh, hell!" he panted.

"Mind your language, your tongue, there is a nun here." Josiah scolded.

"Sorry." the sharpshooter murmured again as his face and ears flushed impossibly scarlet, shutting his eyes to avoid the two.

"Invalids, Mr. Sanchez, are all the same," the nun said shaking her head and wiping the young man's strong jaw and neck with a little towel. At the touch of her white, cold, professional hands, Vin shivered but held his eyes firmly shut. he felt tired again and as a sudden, he was overcome with sleep.

With a secret sigh of relief, the nun let herself fall on a chair, looking at the slumbering man. She had to change her plan and quickly, she thought, she couldn't figure out how but the damn Texan had been able to see, for a sort of preternatural instinct, the menace, so carefully hidden into her eyes. Licking her lips, she studied Vin's fine features under the two-days' growth of beard, wondering how attractive he might have been when washed, shaved and healthier.

She waited as Tanner's breath heaved, bent on him, listening intently, then turned to Josiah.

"He's having some trouble breathing," she lied, and reaching for the oxygen mask, she covered with it the young man's slack mouth. The sharpshooter tossed weakly his head back and forth, mumbling in his sleep, but didn't stir.

She turned to Josiah.

"So, Mr. Sanchez what about some sandwiches?" she offered cheerfully.

"I'll be pleasant, Sister Carrie, and we'll have some white light wine to go with them, you'll find it in the refrigerator," Josiah said, with a twinkle in his smile.

"This won't take a minute," she said.

* * *

She went into the kitchen and made her preparations, than took from the refrigerator the green bottle of wine, uncorked it and poured the amber liquid into two glasses, having care to let slide some drops from a little phial into Josiah's glass.

She exited the room with her tray and crossing the dining room, she approached Chris' computer's desk and read the fax just now printed.

_Three little ATF boys _  
_Were sitting on the pew _  
_One followed a " vision " _  
_Then they were two _  
_Two little ATF boys _  
_Were chasing a dreadful man _  
_One was lost in the sun _  
_And then there was one _

_You are all alone … Larabee! _

_Murdock_

She smiled and her eyes fell on one of the photographs on the wall by the doorway. It was the official photo of Team 7 taken just before Christmas. She looked at the tall, blonde figure of the team's leader standing with a big smile on his handsome face in the middle of the group, his right outstretched arm on Vin's shoulders, repressing the sudden urge to slam her fists into the photo.

That man had chased his father, that man had compelled him to kill himself, discovering the respectful banker's strange "liaisons" with "the Mafia". Holding his cold hand while he was slipping slowly into death, having poisoned himself in a cold winter night, five years ago, she had promised his beloved father to avenge him.

"You'll have your vengeance, Daddy," she whispered and with a broad triumphant grin walked back to the bedroom. She set down the tray on the table.

"Go ahead, Mr. Sanchez and fix yourself a drink," she invited. "If you feel like eating, there's plenty!"

* * *

Vin was dreaming: it was a peaceful beautiful day and he was walking on the path leading to the ranch when a black panther rushed out from behind the bushes with a low groan looking at him with dark, glittering eyes. He reached for his gun and realized that he was naked… gasping; he awoke in a pool of sweat in his bed.

Letting his eyes open only a slit he could make out Josiah slumped on the chair near his bed, in a sort of deep slumber and the little woman with dark, large eyes, bent over his friend, the dark pupils glittering like the glare of a panther ready to grab its prey, a sharp blade in his hands.

Vin shuddered: he had to warn his friend! But the darn oxygen mask was on his mouth again. He looked down at his hands, they were pasty white and gaunt, he raised both of them and reaching for the straps of the device, he forced his trembling fingers to work on them and felt them loosening. Gritting his teeth he took the nasty thing off his mouth, then forcing his uncooperative lips to open he shouted. "Josiah! Lookout!"

With a hiss, the nun slowly turned her head until he was looking at Tanner. Her face softened as lifting her well-shaped eyebrows, examined him, smiling secretively. She moved closer and stood at the foot of the bed.

"Are you worried about your friend, Vin, aren't you?" she asked the strange light voice of hers.

The sharpshooter favored her with a steel–cold blue glare.

"Well, let's not worry about him, my pet!" she said.

She let her weapon fell onto the ground and swept upon the bewildered young man.

"Don't look at me like that, honey," she said as she reached down and ran her fingers across Vin's cheek, looking intently at him, "Maybe for one of your kiss I might spare that old fool." When she bent over him and let both hands slide on his bare shoulders, Vin stiffened.

"All right, break it up, Ligeia," a stern voice said from the doorway.

Murdock was standing just inside the room a gun in his hand.

"And you 'hero' don't try any silly moves!" he went on as came farther into the room and closed the door with his heel.

He jerked the gun to an armchair near the bed. "Sit down, Ligeia."

The woman looked as she were going to faint but sat following the order.

"Good," Murdock murmured as he moved to the center of the room, the gun pointed to a spot just between Vin and the 'nun'.

"I came to take care of my business, and I see I did right, I wouldn't have let you come here, I was told that Larabee's young friend was a purty one and on the other side you have quite a reputation…"

"How dare you talk to me like that?" Ligeia cried out in anger.

Murdock smiled and stepped to her, hitting her hard on the face three times, she staggered and collapsed on the armchair as blood flowed from her lips.

"Shut up, bitch!" he hollered, and then he half turned his head to look at Vin.

"Well, we are going to have a little trip to a safer place, so Tanner stand up and get dressed or I'll drill your friend, " he said gesturing with the bar of his gun to the unconscious Sanchez. "Hurry up, boy, time's a wasting." He continued, hooking a chair toward him and sitting down, the gun in his lap.

Vin didn't say anything, furiously racking his brain to find a way to get out of this mess. Cautiously he lowered his feet to the floor and stood up. He felt weak in the legs and wobbly but not anything like so wobbly as he thought he was going to feel. It took him over ten minutes to get dressed and he was feeling pretty bad by the time he was through. He had to sit on the bed until his heart stopped racing. But this gave him the time to look around and on the night table near the bed he saw the gun: the mare–leg Chris had brought him as Christmas' present, to add to his collection of Old West items. The old weapon hadn't been fired in years and it had taken Vin a whole week to clean it up, but now the gun was as good as new. Swiftly the sharpshooter made his plan. With a loud moan, he let himself fall again onto the bed, face down.

Murdock turned to him "What's wrong, boy?"

"Let me breathe…" Vin murmured and he wasn't so far from telling the truth, he thought that he was going to pass out. He was shaking like a leaf, and there was an awful swirling going on inside his chest.

"Take your time, then." Murdock said, "I need you in one piece for the last of act of this comedy." He rose to his feet, put the gun on the table and lit a cigar, turning to the window.

Vin took hold of the corner of a sheet and wiped the sweat off his face, he felt soreness in his arm, his fingers were half-numb but he could feel pins and needles as he tried to move them, he looked at them dubiously. And with a shrug ordered himself,

** Damn, Tanner, cut it short, ya have ta try! **

Glancing at the broad man's back in front of him, he slowly stretched his arm towards the gun, and his fingers closed on its butt. Collecting his strength, he rolled on his side and shouted out, "Murdock!"

The man turned abruptly and Tanner pulled the trigger. The old gun barked and the bullet exploded on the man' s cheek–bone with the impact of a hammer: He went down, a surprised look on his face, his body coming squarely on the table in the middle of the room that smashed like matchwood.

A thick dim hung straight up in the air as the sharpshooter let himself fall onto his back, holding the mare–leg against his aching chest. He could hear his own breathing, quick short gasps, rasping in his throat. The woman was there near the corpse. Vin stared at her. There was no fear in her pale face stained with blood.

She squatted on her heels and looked down.

"He's dead," she said, baring her sharp teeth in an awful smile, "It's all right, isn't it?" A chill ran up Vin's spine. She wasn't human.

With a quick movement Ligeia was in front of him "Are you going to shoot me too, boy?" she asked warily.

"I never shoot. In cool blood, "Vin said, and his voice sounded miles away. Clutching at the cold barrel of the gun, he tossed his head, in a movement of helpless impatience, to clear his blurring vision. The room was whirling around him and he fought the dizziness staggering on the edge of consciousness. She leaned on him and breathed on his face,

"Vin, I won't kill you, my child, I'm going to take you with me!"

He looked up at her dreadful black eyes and stared at her as she lifted a syringe, and then he felt the burning sensation of the liquid pulled into his veins, he wanted to move, to avoid it, but he was so tired, he thought he went to sleep, just like that.

* * *

**SEPTEMBER, 28 - Afternoon – St. Joseph Hospital.**

The smell of iodoform and either told Ezra he was in hospital. A nurse was standing over him, he looked up at her quizzically: there was a bored, harassed expression on her pretty face. He cautiously looked around, collecting his thought, staring at high white screens surrounding his bed and they worried him. He seemed to remember they only put screens around a bed when the patient is going to die.

A doctor came around from behind the screen and peered at him.

"You don't have to tell me that you are better," he said. "I can see that by myself," he said cheerfully.

"How long have I been here?" Standish asked.

"You were admitted at eleven–thirty on the night of September 27. Today is September 28. So you have been here one day and half. You had had an accident. A speed–cop heard the crash, although he didn't see it happen. You were found wandering outside your car, in a dazed condition. They thought you were an addict who had taken an overdose. But they were wrong. Someone doped you with a very strong opium derivate."

"And how am I doing, doctor?"

"You are doing well, just take it easy," he said glancing at the paper on the foot of the bed "you are still suffering from narcotic poisoning, but you'll be all right soon, Mr. Standish."

"I'm obliged, doctor, when I'll be allowed to get out of here?"

"Oh, you keep on like this and we'll have you up in a couple of days."

"A couple of days?" Ezra shouted, jumping on the bed.

"Please, Mr. Standish, you have only to rest all you can."

Ezra frowned, but looking at the doctor he decided not to argue with him, he was a nice guy and he was doing his best for him. So he grinned at him.

"Well, so I'll stay, it's a nice place here, after all," he said.

"Good, Mr. Standish, if you need something you have only to ask your nurse, have a good night," the doctor smiled back very pleasant and walked out quietly.

Before Ezra could even start to think about what happened to him, a nurse came in.

"Your dinner, sir." she said cheerfully. He looked at the offering from the cooks of the St. Joseph Hospital. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, but he swallowed some " broth " and then turned to the girl.

"Tell me, young lady what about my clothes?"

"They are in the closet over there .Did you want something? Mr. Standish, I'm beginning to suspect you' re someone very important."

"What gave you that idea?"

"Well, there are two federal agents outside and an older man, they called him 'judge'. They told me they were looking for you. I guess you must be important."

"Let them in, please, miss."

"Of course Mr. Standish."

A few minutes later Chris Larabee, J.D and Judge Travis stepped into the room.

Larabee pulled up a chair beside him and crossed his long leg.

"They say you had a car crash."

"What about my car? Is it damaged?" Ezra asked in concern.

"Nah, one of the headlights gone out, that's all,"

The southerner sighted in relief and closed his eyes, his head was throbbing unmercifully.

"Damn! Standish, wake up!" Chris hollered jumping on his feet.

Blinking the irate man into focus, Ezra mumbled, "Sorry, Mr. Larabee I must have drifted off!"

"Reckon, shoot out then, what happened to you?" Larabee blurted out impatiently.

"Well, Mr. Larabee," Ezra said. "I met my informer last night, he invited me to join him for some drinks and a game of poker and so I did. He talked a lot about Murdock. and his plans of vengeance on a cop named Chris Larabee… the last thing I remember is that I was walking in the parking lot towards my car..."

"Did you talk to Buck about this?"

"Buck? I've never seen him!" Standish stammered.

Chris' eyes narrowed and the con man expected him to start yelling at him again. But he didn't .He just scratched his head.

"I guess there's been a misunderstandings or something worse." he whispered after a while.

Then he grabbed his cell and dialed the ranch's number.

At first there was no answer, then Nathan's voice murmured, "Jackson!" in a distant, husky sound.

"Nathan! It's me, Chris – "

"Chris," the strained voice repeated.

"Jackson, can you hear me? What 's going on?" Chris cried out. He had never heard the black agent the way he sounded this afternoon.

"They are gone, Chris. The room is a mess… blood on the floor… I've called the FED, they will be here soon" Nathan said.

"What about Vin?" Chris repeated as a chill swept through him.

"Chris, Vin's not here…" Jackson sounded feeble and uncertain.

"Damn! What on hell happened?" Larabee urged, his mouth as suddenly gone dry.

"Well, when I came back with Rain, half an hour ago we found the house empty and in Vin's room a pool of blood, that's all."

"Hold on, man, we are coming." Chris cried into the phone and hung up. his chest tight, adrenaline casting aside any lingering fatigue.

"Something happened at the ranch," he growled. This mess was steaming him up but good and he was barely aware of J.D.'s question.

"Chris, what about Buck?"

A deep sense of shame and guilt owerwhelmed Larabee: he was worrying only about Tanner but also his oldest, loyal friend was lost, he could be dead as well, and what was he doing? Tottering and growling like a she – bear that has lost his cubs. He sighed realizing that he was now thinking of himself in terms of one of Vin's own nicknames for him.

"We'll find them, don't worry, kid," he said with a steadiness he didn't feel.

"Chris! Leave me go; I'll try to find him, please! You know Vin has been teaching me!" J.D pleaded.

"No, I'm am in charge of all of you and I say we are going to work on this together," Chris snarled, silencing the younger man.

"Mr. Dunne, we are dealing with a sort of conjure against all of us and we must face all this as a team, as they say,'By uniting we stand, by dividing we fall'," Ezra said smiling at J.D.

Chris stared at the southerner in surprise, for Ezra for the first time, was admitting to feel himself a member of the team and was offering his support.

"Thanks, Ezra!" he murmured.

"My pleasure, Mr. Larabee."

In the pause that followed Judge Travis spoke for the first time, "I'll try to get in touch with a friend of mine from the Police department, he could help us, providing a car and some men, we must go to the ranch to appreciate the situation. According with our information special agent Tanner and special agent Sanchez were kidnapped and Wilmington disappeared as well, right?"

"Yes, sir, and Murdock is in charge of the whole thing." Chris stated.

Travis shook his head. "We don't know enough to even start theorizing, we have no evidence, and I mean no solid evidence."

"Maybe someone else is involved, judge. I charted every scrap of information about Murdock, gambling, dope; extortion the man controls every kind of dirty business. The most important member of the gang is Ligeia Licata, Murdock's right hand, a psychopath with a temper as thin as a shadow. She is skilled in poisoning and stabbing people. They say she met Murdock when she was very young and down to the last dollar and the man had money and he threw it around..… I have a feeling about her, you know what I mean," Ezra said.

"We must head to the ranch as soon as possible," Chris stated."I know how the Feds work; I want to check the house by myself, to go over it thoroughly!"

He looked down at the streaming. late afternoon trafic filling the street and swore. "We'll never get there in time ! " he shouted in anger , his nerves were jangling.

"Well, time to go!" The con man said with a wry smile as he sat on the bed and pushed the button to call the nurse.

In a few minutes the girl was there.

"Do you need something, Mr. Standish?"

"Of course, young lady, I want to speak to my doctor, at once, and please bring me the due documents to sign be realised."

"I'm going to find your doctor, sir." The nurse answered and quickly stepped into the corridor.

"What on hell do you think you are doing, Standish?" Chris snapped.

"I guess we need a car, don't we? And a fast one too, what about an... ambulance?"

"And you think to be able to fool the doctor?"

"Mr. Larabee, you couldn't figure out how many things a clever man could learn playing poker. When you gamble there is no such a thing as second place. Either you win or you lose it all... and I've never lost it all... besides I was blessed with the gift of eloquence."

"You are a spate of words, Ezra!" J.D. laughed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Countin' on a Miracle - Chapter 3**

**by Chris and rosyvin**

**SEPTEMBER, 28 – Late Afternoon – The Ranch.**

Two hours later Chris arrived at the ranch. As he walked along the narrow path leading to the house the afternoon heat enveloped him and he smelled the sweet, weighty breath of honeysuckle and grass. He glanced at the peaceful, green landcape, at the mountains so beautiful that it seemed as if God himself had shaped them with his Almighty strenght and sighed in despair.

He went into the house and walked straight to Vin's room. He stopped just inside the doorway and almost unconsciously as if his thoughts were elsewhere he scanned the bedroom. His gaze lingered on Vin's rusty brown leather jacket on the chair, then on Vin's harmonica on the desk and a wash of cold spread over him, as he looked back at the pool of blood on the wooden floor: dried blood, now brown, caked and cracking. As a sudden he was aware of the lump growing in his throat. At first as an ill–definite sensation that didn't required his full attention then as something he couldn't ignore He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by this strange feeling. There was something of panic and something of desperation in this feeling for in his own house, in the safe harbour of the ranch suddenly he felt the chilling presence of death.

* * *

**SEPTEMBER 29 - Noon – Office.**

At twelve fifteen J.D. entered the office, he had been in the next building in the crime lab to check on specimens found at the ranch.

Chris sat on the edge of Vin's empty desk his eyes bloodshot and his face haggard and worn. He had not shaved.

Ezra was busily typing at his computer and Nathan milling around the office, everyone pursuing or pretending to pursue his own thoughts about what had just happened.

"C'mon, kid," Chris ordered, "fill me up!"

Taking a deep breath J.D swiftly reported, "For starters, the hypodermic syringe in the bedroom had contained sulphate of morph, about the blood on the floor, it isn't Vin's blood."

"What've they come up with?" Chris grumbled, an edge had crept into his tone, a touch of anger mixed with impatience.

The young agent pulled out of a plastic bag the mare–leg and positioning it on Chris' desk he went on, "Well, this gun was under the bed, forensics found Vin's fingertips on its butt, and it's is still loaded. Someone was killed with this gun in the room and the corpse taken away. Who did it made a helluva work not leaving them too much to work on, he seemed to know what to clean up and why."

A pang of anxiety that he was unable to stifle washed over Chris - the anxiety of someone who has run against a post in the dark and wonders for a spell whether he has hurt.

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he stepped back to his desk and his eyes widened as he looked at his computer's screen.

"F… that's sick!" He shouted out, slamming his hand on the table. All the men turned to him as he began to read the message on the screen.

_One little ATF cop _  
_Is sitting now at work _  
_He'd better stand up _  
_For I want in a word _  
_To shoot his friends dead. _

_Your life for theirs'… Larabee… _

_I'm waiting for you. You know the place._

Under the message was the photograph of carved white gate.

Thinking back Chris remembered of a man called Franco Licata, the owner of that house, a respectful banker he had framed five years ago, discovering his links to the 'Mafia'.

Unable to face a trail the man had killed himself.

This mobster had a daughter, a little girl, with piercing dark eyes, Chris had met her the day they discovered the corpse, as a nun came to pick her up… a nun!. The ATF leader shuddered, holding his breath as he thought of a pair of dark, large eyes.

Without a word he rose from his desk and grabbing his gun belt he hissed between clenched teeth,

"Keep out of this! It's my business!" And before anyone could stop him he stepped through the door, slamming it shut behind his shoulders. They heard the sound of a key turned into its lock and then footsteps fading away.

"Damn, he locked the door! " J.D. cried out.

"Help me pick this lock, my friend," Standish smiled.

He knelt beside the door, fumbled with the lock and after a few minute's work he opened it.

They jumped into the elevator and rode to the ground floor.

* * *

They reached the parking lot, in no time.

Ezra slapped the blue light on the top of his black Porsche, slid into the front sit then trod on the starter, shifted into second and pulled away.

He took the highway like it was Indianapolis. The landscape became a blur as the passengers could feel the seats moving out from under them.

"Any idea where Chris's heading?" The black agent asked.

"Well, Mr. Jackson, a couple of years ago my mother had in her mind to buy a new house, so we kept looking at some suitable estates all around Denver. One of those was a rather unusual building, a sort of Italian villa, with a carved gate, when I saw the picture they sent I recognized it at once, " the southerner explained.

"You're amazing, Ezra!" J.D blurted out.

"I must say I' m fully aware of this, J.D.," Ezra replied, showing the accelerator to the boards.

* * *

**SEPTEMBER, 29 – Evening – The Villa.**

Having the three agents in her hands was the most stimulating thing that had ever happened to Ligeia. She had complete and total control over their lives. She could do anything she wanted to them. Murdock was dead, he had those three trapped, and now she was ready to deal with the man who deserved to die more then any of them: Chris Larabee.

The very thought made her happy and content.

She stared at the young man tied to the bed and delicately lifted the blanket and sheets from his chest, inclining her chin towards him. He was a handsome sight – if one ignored his paleness and his gaping drooling mouth. His arms and upper chest were strong and muscular; his brown curls a perfect match for his face, which had high cheek–bones and a short, arrogant nose.

Slowly regaining his senses Vin knew that he was being watched. He tried to open his eyes just a slit, feeling the eyelids quiver as he eased them apart and looked fuzzily at the white ceiling. He was on his back, secured to a bed with straps at his wrists and ankles. He felt sick. He vaguely remembered of the sharp voice of a woman and of the sting of an injection, given deep into the muscle of his neck. Then again motions, touches, a glimpse of a deep blue darkening sky, his body being folded into the trunk of a car and the thick darkness oppressing and stifling him. He took a deep breath that hurt his healing scar and moaned softly.

"Are you awake, sugar?" Ligeia cooed, leaning in close to him.

"Are you awake, my pet?" She whispered, smoothing the lock which habitually fell over the young man 's forehead.

Vin blinked rapidly and stammered but then memory dawned, and he emerged more fully from his slumber, stiffening as Ligeia moved closer and crawled beside him on the bed, putting her long, fingers on his blanketed thigh, "Hush, honey, take it easy, very easy," she purred.

As he was bound to the bed frame Vin knew, he couldn't get away from her anyway but he flinched involuntarily at the touch.

"Get off him, bitch!" Buck growled, cocking his head and raising it slightly, Tanner could see him bound to a chair in front of him and at the opposite side of the room Josiah lying on a narrow cot, secured to it by his wrists and still unconscious.

With a chilling laughter Ligeia looked up at the ladies' man, "Don't worry, agent Wilmington, you are the next one, we have all the time of the world, so suit yourself," she said sternly, bending again over Vin.

She leaned forward, her face just inches from his. "Don't pull away from me, handsome," she murmured reaching out with a shaking hand, and turning the sharpshooter 's chin towards herself. "Oh, my. I do love those wide blue eyes of yours!"

Tanner shot a quick glance at Buck, over Ligeia 's shoulder as she paused, caressing his cheek, he had a plan, having noticed a glassy look in the woman's black eyes and a tiny red, mark on the smooth skin just above her pulse.

Forcing his mouth into a little smile, he cautiously rasped in the soft voice of his, blushing hard at his own teasing words," So, how ' bout untying' me, ma'm? "

"Oh, of course, sweetie," she whispered, smiling in anticipation.

She removed the restrains holding the young man's wrists and embraced him, searching eagerly for his lips.

As soon as Ligeia's arms encircled his neck, Tanner tried to hit her onto her face. But with his legs spread apart and his ankles still tied securely to the corners of the bed in which he lay, he was off - balance and with little cry of surprise, she avoided the blow, when somebody banged on the door.

"Miss, you had better get out here."

"What 's going on?"

"The man we were waiting for, he's here, we took him to the dining room."

Ligeia's face changed and a satisfied grin spread on it.

She brought his eyes back to Vin and smiled. It was a strange smile, pleasing but crooked and not too coordinated properly.

"You'll pay for that!" she uttered in a low, dangerous tone and then slapped Vin violently across the mouth, splitting open his lips with the ring she wore.

The Texan sucked at the blood, closing his eyes, painfully aware that lying on his back and tied up made him vulnerable to anything Ligeia wanted to do. Moreover he was too weak to defend himself.

She reached over, opened a drawer in the table near by and retrieving a club stepped back to the bed and drew the bedclothes downward his prisoner's feet, entirely exposing his body. Her finger traced around the scar on the smooth naked chest and then lowered, following the line of Vin's ribs. Vin sucked in a breath as her touch sent a flash of pain into his chest, making him cry out in hurt.

"You know where I'm going to hit you? " She asked coldly.

The sharpshooter kept silent but tensed, holding his painful breath, as his eyes remained tightly closed.

"Darn bitch, stop it, he's hurt! Just stop it! " Buck cried out.

"I guess he is healthy enough to be punished, beside I'm going to kill him anyway, your boss will be here soon, the fool accepted a switch, his life for yours but he won't find you still alive," she stated and tried to smile again, but what came out was just a smirk.

Without warning, she took two steps to the right where she could get a better angle and then she brought the club repeatedly swiftly down into Tanner's exposed rib cage, one, two, three times. Vin felt his ribs crack , he gasped and coasted on the blackness and the pain spreading up into his still tender chest.

The woman looked down at him. The crocked smile was back.

"I'm going out and check Lara bee over, then I'll bring him here and we'll have some fun, stay with us Tanner."

She went over to the door unlocked it and went out.

Almost instinctively, Vin bent down to untie his ankles, he felt nauseous and dizzy. Taking a deep breath, he started again unwrapping the rope and succeeding in it eased himself to his knees. A groan was wrenched from between his teeth as he pulled himself off bed and on his feet. Looking around the room he saw on a chair his jeans, he grabbed them and after a little struggle he pulled them on. Then, barefoot, he pointed stubbornly to the door.

"Vin! Get back and untie us!" Wilmington shouted straining at the cord bounding his hands.

"Be damned if I will! Chris 's in trouble have ta find help," Vin growled as he eased the door open and peered down the hall.

"If he is, you'll only get killed, git back, darn Texan mule! It's an order!" Buck hollered again, twisting desperately on the chair and pulling at his bounds. Vin turned to him, a mischievous half grin on his face as he drawled,

"Ya know, Bucklin, cain't stand the orders… see ya! " And tipping the brim of an invisible hat, he slipped out of the door.

* * *

Once outside he started moving slowly down the stairs, reached the ground floor and continued to tiptoe down the hall towards the back door and from it he exited.

The burning sensation in his chest was getting worse, but he bit his lips and stared into the uncertain light of the upcoming evening at the huge opened gate, just in front of the house. **I have ta git there, I can do this,** he murmured. However sick he felt, it didn't matter. Fuelled by adrenaline but slowed by injuries, staying close to the bushes, he slowly reached for the gate. The thought of getting help spurred him as he stumbled along, moving through the heavy undergrowth as fast as he could.

Random thoughts raced through his restless mind. He knew that as soon as they discovered him missing they would be after him.

He slid like a dark shadow across the open spaces between the bushes and the trees. Once outside the garden he reached the end of a small driveway and found himself on a dirty road cut into the hillside – a rough terrain of overgrown shrubbery and grass. The sharpshooter gave a look around, hoping to see other houses, but there were none up here in this lonely place. He paused, listening and then he heard a faint noise of traffic at his left. With a desperate effort staggering on his bare feet he turned and continued his journey. After what it seemed to him a very long time, he staggered into the street. There was a steady stream of trafic traveling up and down, but nobody stopped. He waived his arms frantically in the air.

Drivers averted their eyes and kept going. ** Damn, they 'd think I'm plumb drunk or crazy ** He thought.

For one wild moment, he considered throwing himself in front of a car, but they'd probably knock him down and drive off. He swayed, almost falling but forced himself to keep going and then he was aware that a car was just behind him. The driver seemed to be keeping pace at his heels, more that trying to run him over. There was no air left in his breast, now only the quick spreading of exhaustion all over his body .Vin shuddered: he didn't know what sounded worse his lungs or the car chasing him. As his legs failed, he wilted, dropped slowly to his knees and sank onto the ground.

He heard voices, he heard Nathan's voice. "He just passed out."

Hands turned gently him over on his back.

"Nate!" he murmured as he made an effort to keep upright, then slumped heavily on his friend, his sweaty head pillowed on the black agent's broad chest.

"Yes, it's me, take it easy, Vin," the black agent said in a reassuring tone as he knelt next to him, holding him carefully, the tousled head laying against his broad shoulders.

Managing a deeper breath the sharpshooter looked through his eyelashes and saw Ezra and J.D, bending over him.

He bolted upright, looking at his friends with gazed eyes.

"They have... Chris, we gotta go..." he stammered, catching his breath.

"Are they after you?"

The sharpshooter shook his head.

"You know, Nathan, Vin can disappear at will... just like a ghost!" J.D. pointed out proudly.

"I guess the comparison'd suit him perfectly, right now," Ezra murmured, squatting beside the Texan and studying his ashen, sweaty face.

Vin's brows furrowed and he gasped, his voice raspy, "Hell... Quit... jawin' back and forth.…. The darn nun... She's gonna kill Chris gotta go back to the villa!" he puffed.

"What about Murdock?" Ezra asked.

"He's dead. I shot him… " Vin blurted out, trying to sit upright but Ezra held him in place putting a hand on his chest.

"Please, Mr. Tanner, lie still, the Cavalry is on its way."

Raising his head, Vin looked back at the highway and scooped half a dozen blue and whites parked perpendicularly blocking the street ahead, their red and blue light flashing.

A cop appeared at Nathan's side, peering on the fallen man.

"Damn! The boy here is sure knocked about! Need some help, Jackson? Should I call an ambulance?"

"An ambulance would be an excellent idea," Nathan said sharply. The cop nodded and left.

"No! I won't git back ta the darn hospital… help me up… we gotta git to the villa... we gotta save Chris!" Vin cried out, fighting Nathan's gently restraining hands.

"For Christ's sake, Tanner, stay put!" Nathan hollered, tightening his hold on the lean, shivering shoulders and pinning the smaller man to the ground with all his weight.

"Git yer hands off me… lemme be!" Vin protested again, trying to push Nathan away from him, holding one of his arms back, but his strength was ebbing and he toppled backward, totally spent.

"Ya won't save. Chris without m' help," he mumbled, under his breath.

"Got a new set of scratches and bruises, uh? Let me have a look at them ribs of yours" Nathan murmured absently, skimming his hands from Tanner's upper chest to waist. At the light touch of Jackson's practiced fingers on his aching ribs Tanner paled and hissed in pain. Nathan frowned, "Listen to me Tanner, you aren't going back to the villa, the only place you're going is the hospital, is that clear?" he growled.

Vin scowled. His intention was to stay awake, but his body had other plans and even the anger he felt was insufficient to keep his eyes open.

"Hell, Nate, stop fussin' over me. I'm… fine," he stubbornly whispered drifting off with a faint groan. Pulling the limp body forward Nathan settled the tousled head against his shoulder, wrapping protectively his arms around his chest.

The cop returned.

"Sorry, Mr. Jackson, the ambulance 'd be in late, there was a fire, just outside Denver, lots of people involved."

Nathan sighed looking down at the Texan in his arms, in dismay.

"Our young fallen comrade needs you, Mr. Jackson! Stay with him, I swear I'll take the others back. alive!" Ezra said softly tapping lightly his friend's back. Then he rose to his feet, whirled on his heels and joined the policemen in the car, J. D followed him, and the convoy roared off the hill.

* * *

**SEPTEMBER, 29 - Evening - The Villa.**

Larabee was led to a large well–furnished room, the man behind him, with a hand against his back, roughly urged him into it.

Ligeia sat behind a big, flat–topped desk. To her side a thick man with a brutal face. Now she had taken off her nun's dress and was wearing a dark blue silk gown Chris recognized her at once and shuddered in surprise.

"Well, Larabee nice to meet you again, I'm not going to tie you down, but you know what will happen to you should you cause my men the least bit of trouble. They have their instructions and they will enjoy carrying them out,"

The woman said, smiling evilly, there was a brooding expression in her face, she lit a cigarette and drew on it hungrily.

Chris stood in the middle of the room, his nerves jumpy, and his steady glare on her.

"Scared, Larabee?" she asked, and her eyebrows lifted.

"I want to see my men at once!" Chris hollered.

She stared at him, with a light-mocking smile.

"I guess is Vin Tanner you are eager to see, they say you two are quite close and he is a real looker, isn't he?"

Feral green eyes stared back at her. "What have you done to him?"

"We haven't done too him much, yet. He played his hand pretty badly… I could say he refused…. to cooperate." she said with a shrug.

"Let him loose, we had a deal, remember?" Larabee shouted.

"It happen to hold all the cards in this deal, besides it is out of my hands now," Ligeia said then she went on calmly as if she were discussing the weather,

"the little bastard shot Murdock and a couple of friend of his took it very personally so I can't let Tanner go free, they are claiming him, he 'll have to be turned over to them, they asked for the privilege to finish him off but I promise you I will see they make it quick. I owe Tanner something. I'm grateful to him for getting rid of Murdock," she went on, her voice cold and sharp,

"You're a dangerous man Larabee, the only obstacle left between myself and the kingdom I inherited from my father, you must die. and the sooner the better. I'm good at arranging accidents. And I must say you are going to meet with an accident right now… " She moved closer and continued to look at the black clad man, her face as hard as granite.

"Don't let kid yourself. You talk about an accident, but it won't be an accident it'll be murder," Chris said, maintaining steady, level eye contact with her.

She laughed moved away from him and walked over to the window.

"This is what the police will report about your death, you saw your best friend and your mates worked out and killed and you knew you were caught. no way out for you. You walked to the window of the villa and kept walking. They found you lying on the terrace with a broken neck."

"Would this story play any better with Judge Travis?"

"I don't care about him… do you remember Larabee? My father killed himself sitting on that divan, five years ago, because of you, and now it's your turn."

Chris glared at her. There was a ruthless look of triumph in her black, bottomless eyes and her colorless lips were parted.

She turned and waved his hand at her thugs.

"Bill go outside and get the cars ready, we are leaving in about an hour and you Jeff, tell Shorty to bring Tanner in here, we are going to have a little fun"

The men left the room.

Chris turned ice–cold. He had only to look at her to see she wasn't bluffing.

He was licked and he knew it. Vin would be better off dead then tortured by those men.

Without looking at her he said, "Turn Tanner loose, after all it's me you want!"

"I see, you are trying to save your little friend, aren't you? How touching, Larabee! But you are wrong for I wanted him as well as you and you led me right to him."

"My men are after you and you'll pay for that!" Chris growled.

"I've just told you Chris Larabee, it's your turn," she laughed.

Her eyes on the blonde's face, she moved across the room, smiling as she arched her back and stretched herself like a dangerous cat.

"You are a handsome man, Chris, so tall, so strong and well–built and I guess much more experienced than your younger, shy friend… we could have some fun and..." she continued almost cheerfully.

"I 'm not in the mood for pillow talks," Larabee uttered, holding her gaze.

"Well, maybe you'd change your mind. Seeing my men at work on the friends of yours," she abruptly stated. Then she brushed past him and headed for the door.

* * *

**SEPTEMBER, 29 - Night – The Villa.**

The car containing Ezra and his mates met up with two unmarked police cars at the bottom of the canyon. Standish sat in the front, giving directions. After a while he spotted the lonely house. It stood at the edge of the woods, a mile from the main road, down a narrow corridor that was more path then lane; a big house, ghost–white in the moonlight.

A lamp burned feebly in a corner room on the second floor and another spilled light from the main room. Otherwise the place was dark.

"It's up here," Ezra said, "keep on going – it's way at the top."

The first vehicle in the convoy slowed down.

"There is a truck up ahead," the driver said.

"Looks like it could be Chris' truck!" J.D. pointed out.

In a flash Ezra was out of the car, pulling his gun.

"I'll go first," he said.

They stopped near the black truck parked on the grass near the end of the driveway and stood for a spell, letting their eyes dealing with the darkness. Then Ezra pushed open the gate and they entered a wilderness of trees and shrubs. They made their way from tree to tree around the left side of the house until they came to the back. Standish discovered a side door. He pressed gently and the door swung open. ."Wait here!" he ordered turning to the policeman.

Moving carefully he entered a sort of little empty kitchen and then he heard the shuffle of heavy footsteps. He swiftly looked around and spotted at his left side a little door. He slipped behind it; leaving it half open and flattered him against the wall, holding his breath. Minutes ticked by and a huge man entered the kitchen.

He picked up from the table a bottle and poured himself a shot of whisky.

"Shorty!" Someone called out from the hall. "Where in hell are you?"

"Damn, Bill, give me a break!" the big brute hollered. Slowly he put down the half – finished whisky and moseyed out of the kitchen.

The undercover agent leaned on the wall, his gun gripped firmly, waiting.

After a while he heard something that brought him to a stiff attention: the sound of footsteps in the other room and a woman's voice, screaming, getting closer, entering the room,

"Shorty! Bring Tanner in here! It's time we started!"

"Yes ma'm. I'm comin'," the thug replied.

Peering into the hall, Ezra saw the mountain of man climbing the stairs, muttering.

Everything was silent for a moment he heard the footsteps fading and the sound of another door being opened. There was a pause and then the man swore,

"Damn! The little bastard's gone!"

Doors slammed and the feminine voce asked,

"What's going on?"

"Tanner slipped away, ma'm!"

"Idiots! Search for him, he won't be too far the shape he is in!" The woman ordered.

"What about the other two, ma'm?"

"I'll take care of both of them after!" the irate woman cried out.

At this point there were a lot of jumbled noises, swearing, yelling and footsteps running.

Standish waited until all the men were gathered in the hall, and stepping back flung himself into the kitchen, opened the back door and gestured the policemen to get in.

Then hefting the gun in his right hand he launched himself into the hall hollering."Freeze, ATF!"

* * *

Ligeia standing at the doorstep, stiffened as a voice from a loudspeaker filled the night, heard thousands of yards away. "All inside throw down your arms or be killed. Come outside and show yourself without your weapons. You have two minutes to comply with our demands!" Trembling she backed out.

Her face was pale and her eyes wide and shadowy. She moved into the dining room, grabbed her pursue from the table, dipped her hand into it a brought out a 38 automatic.

"You'll stay where you are, Larebee!" She growled pointing the gun at Chris' chest. Light fell directly on the barrel of the huge gun in her little, unsteady hand.

"Don't do anything stupid!" She said and her voice was cold as ice. Chris knew he hadn't a chance to reach before she fired, and she would fire, the mad look in her eyes told him that.

"See you in hell, Chris Larabee!" She hissed as the shotgun exploded into sound.

Larabee whirled away from the blast and collapsed onto the ground, blood coating the left side of his chest. For a minute or so the woman stood, over him then turned, opened the terrace's door and quickly walked out.

* * *

When Ezra, J.D and the cops rushed into the room they found only Chris Larabee, lying pale and unmoving on the thick carpet soaked with blood.

"Chris!" Standish cried out, bending over him. He slightly touched the artery in the unconscious man's neck: a steady pulse answered him and he drew in a quick gasp of relief.

"Mr. Larabee. Chris!" he repeated tapping the unconscious man's cheek. Larabee's head dropped back and his eyelids lifted.

"Ezra! What… In the hell. Are you doing here?" The team's leader harshly whispered.

"We'll speak about it later, boss!"

"We must free Vin. and the others…"

"Don't worry about Tanner, Mr. Larabee, our elusive sharpshooter somehow managed to slip away and to find us, I must say you owe him one, without him we couldn't' have been able to get here in time."

"Where the damn fool is, now?"

"Nathan is taking care of him!"

"Good," Chris whispered,

"What about Buck and Josiah, then?" Larabee asked again.

"We are here, Chris," Buck said limping into the room, followed by a weary Josiah.

Chris smiled and relaxed, his team was safe.

"You'll have to help me, I can't walk far…" he mumbled weakly, trying to push himself in a sitting position. Laying a hand against the man's broad chest, Standish pressed him gently back.

"You are not going to walk at all, Mr. Larabee, please lay still, and don't worry about anything," the southerner soothed.

Chris couldn't help but smile and then abruptly he looked around.

"Where is she?" he asked, shuddering.

Ezra ran to the window. In the moonlight he saw Ligeia running down the long drive towards the gates. She was staggering as she ran. She jerked open the gate and scrambled into the blue Mercedes parked near the truck.

"Damn! " the undercover agent swore.

"No need to bother about her," one of the cop said "the general alarm will be out in a few minutes and every patrol will be looking for her."

* * *

**SEPTEMBER, 29 - Night – Parking lot.**

Nathan was pacing back and forth in the parking lot looking up at the hill in the light of thehuge moon shining in the deep blue sky. still waiting for the ambulance. Vin had regained his senses and now was sitting up against a tree truck, a disgruntled expression on his pale face, fully awake. He had repeatetly begged Nathan to let him go but having met with a flat denial he had withdrawn himself into an outraged silence.

Two prowl cars pulled in and two cops tumbled out from the first car. Nathan greeted them then asked.

"What's up?"

"Well sir, we had an alarm call from the villa, they reported that the woman shot Larabee, took her car and ran away," one the prowl boys said in concern. "This is the only way from the villa to the interstate so we got back to catch her."

"How is Larabee doin'?" Vin asked, frowning.

"He's alive," the cop said.

On the top of the hill the pool of light of two headlamps appeared, shining in the darkness. "Here she is!" the cop shouted out.

Nathan turned back to find Vin struggling to get to his feet.

"Tanner, what do you think you are doing?"

"Reckon I'm still the team's sharpshooter," Tanner growled.

He managed to gain his feet , and stood, swaying slighly and with a firm nod at the cop, he ordered in a deathly drawl,

"Gimme yer gun, boy!"

The younger man complied and Vin positioned himself right in the middle of the narrow street.

The car coming towards him was running like hell, too fast on a road like this and its blinking light hit him as it roared down the street. Tanner calmly lowered the gun, aiming at the windshield, fired and at the very last second, before the car could run over him, he jumped aside, tumbling about on the grass. The windshield suddenly turned into a spider' web of cracks and lines.

There was a high squealing sound of tyres biting the tarmac and the car slewed across the road then crashed into the thickets with a grinding noise of splintering wood.

"I'll be damned!" the young cop blurted out in wonder.

Nathan ran towards Vin sprawled face down on the ground. He knelt beside him.

"Vin! You all right?" He asked.

"Never better," Tanner grumbled in a muffled voice.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself the black agent smiled as the Texan lifted his head and glanced at him with that crooked lopsided grin of his.

"Damn fool, I nearly had a fit seeing you in front of that car!" He snapped slipping a hand beneath Tanner's elbow and helping him to his feet.

They looked down the side of the hill at the car compacted by its impact with a trunk, it had caught fire and an acrid smell was filling their nostrils. The flames were high and red scalloped and the smoke black as oil. The car wasn't just burning from inside, it was all on fire at once, walls, hood and roof melting.

"I've seen this kind of fire before. If she is not out now, she's dead. If the crash didn't killed her, the smoke did," the young cop said.

No one talked for a while looking at the roiling smoke that leaned away from the wind.

Vin paled, lowering his head.

"It had ta be done," he murmured.

"Don't blame yourself, Mr. Tanner, she deserved to die," a voice said in a broad southerner accent, Vin slowly turned and saw Ezra in front of him. "By the way," the undercover agent continued with a smirk,"you are going to enjoy the company of our defiant leader on your trip to the hospital."

"How is Chris?" Tanner asked warily.

"Not too bad, he took one in the shoulder, lost some blood, but he completely lost his temper as he heard about your brave deed, Mr. Tanner, so if you don't want to experience one of those dangerous Mr. Larabee's emotional outbursts, I think you had better to behave yourself and to obey Nathan's orders."

"And I'm ordering you to sit down and have some rest," Nathan said sternly, touching slightly Vin's forehead, "you 're running a fever."

"I give up. Reckon I'm outnumbered," Vin said, rolling his eyes.

"You bet, Tanner," Jackson laughed and pulling his own jacket off, he slipped it over the Texan 's shoulders.


	5. Epilogue

**Countin' on a Miracle - EPILOGUE**

**by Chris and rosyvin**

****

Three weeks later – Morning – The Ranch.  


When Vin awoke early in morning, there were frost flowers on the window pane, in the night it had snowed. He had slept soundly.

He didn't wake . He didn't drea, he didn't move. He got out of the bed and stretched out.

As he dressed himself,his healing ribs painfully monitored every movement and he sat again on the bed, holding his breath.

** Damn, Tanner yer pantin' like a worn – out horse ! ** He snapped to himself. But he felt a lot better, the pain in his chest was gone.

On his last visit to the hospital the doctor, after having poked and prodded at him for almost an hour had exclaimed,

"Well, I couldn't find absolutely anything wrong with you. You are seriously under weight but in other ways very fit!"

Then with a wry smile he had added.

"See, Mr. Tanner, I don't believe in miracles, but I' ve been seriously thinking on changing my mind about them, for there's no scientific explanation to your so quick recovery."

Reminding of the good doctor's stunned face and smiling he made his way through the silent dining room towards the kitchen. The sharp, cold air caressed his cheek as he slowly came down the back step and struck his head around the corner of the porch.

Chris coming from the stables looked about at him.

Vin's still gaunt face, lighted by the soft glow of the winter morning, had the relieved and dreamy expression that was natural to him when he was at the ranch.

They stared at each other, it was a peculiar stare they exchanged between them, like the look of two brothers who meet each other after having gone some distance away.

Though the snow fell no longer there was a gentle wind from the spruce trees that swept up delicate flurries from the ground. Vin sat quietly on the rocking chair in the porch.

"What are you doing outside? It's cold, and you aren't recovered yet!" Chris said, approaching.

"Hell, Larabee, I'se nailed ta the darn bed all the week long!" Vin groused, shutting his eyes."Wanna only ta stay here... jist ta sit in th' open and take my ease."

Without a word the older man entered the house and returned after a while carrying a warm blanket.

He wrapped it carefully around Vin's slim body and stood at his side, savoring the warm feeling of his friend's presence.

The sky was a mild shining gray and again dim flakes started falling softly on the ground as the soft quietness of falling snow enveloped the ranch.

They shared the deep silence for several minutes then Vin spoke.

"Chris, ever had the wish I used ta have as a kid – that you could look inta the future?"

"Yea, sometimes... what are you thinking about, Vin?"

"Well, after the operation I'se scared fer I couldn't see any future ahead fer me... without the team." Tanner's voice flickered, but he went on in a husky, low whisper,

"In my life I have flushed most of my secret dreams and Team 7 was my last dream... the one I'se hangin' on to, protectin' it, seekin' shelter in it… in these months layin' on my bed at night over and over again I'se thinkin'. 'Should I quit?' But y'all came up, y'all helped me ta find the place I'se looking for, a place to hung out my shingle,"

Vin paused and tilted his head back, his deep blue emotive eyes met Chris' and a slow smile lit up his handsome features as he murmured,

" Thanks fer everythin', cowboy!"

"You are welcome , pard ! "

Chris smiled back , as he laid a hand on his best friend's lean shoulder, clasping it in a firm grip.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

I hope you enjoyed the story, also if it isn't wat I had in mind it came out pretty good, also if I would like to change a thing or two, here and there, but pretty much I liked the final work.

Thanks for read it :)


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